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iAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th St., New Yo 



Peg O' My Heart 






BY 

J. HARTLEY MANNERS 

Oh, there's nothing half so sweet in life 
As Love's young dream." 



Copyright, 1913, (in Novel form) by Dodd Mead and Company 
Copyright, 1918, By J. Hartley Manners 



ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



CAUTION : All persons are hereby warned that "Peg O' My Heart," 
being fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States, 
is subject to royalty, and any one presenting the play without the 
consent of the owner or his authorized agents will be liable to the 
penalties by law provided. Applications for the amateur acting 
rights must be made to Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th St., New 
York. Applications for the professional acting rights must be made 
to J. Hartley Manners, Lotos Club, New York. 



New York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHES 

28-30 West 38th STREET 



London 
SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 
26 Southampton Street 
STRAND 






< 



Especial notice should be taken that the possession 
•f this book without a valid contract for production 
first having been obtained from J. Hartley Manners, or 
Samuel French, the publisher, confers no right or license 
to professionals or amateurs to produce the play publicly 
or in private for gain or charity. 

In its present form this play is dedicated to the 
reading public only, and no performance of it may be 
given, except by special arrangement with J. Hartley 
Manners, or Samuel French. 

SECTION 28. — That any person who wilfully or for 
profit shall infringe any copyright secured by this act, 
or who shall knowingly and wilfully aid or abet such 
infringement, shall be deemed guilty of a misdemeanor, 
and upon conviction thereof shall be punished by im- 
prisonment for not exceeding one year, or by a fine of 
aot less than one hundred dollars nor more than one 
thousand dollars, or both, in the discretion of the court. 
Act of March 4, 1909. 



©do 50013 

JUL 19 1918 



To 

" LAURIE " 

in that which no waters can quench, 

No time, forget, nor distance wear away." 



PUBLISHER'S NOTE 



" Peg O' My Heart " was first produced in Eos 
Angeles, California, on May 26th, 1912, with 
Laurette Taylor as " Peg ", where it ran for 101 
performances. Subsequently produced at the Cort 
Theater, New York City, on December 20th, 1912, 
with Laurette Taylor, it ran there until May 30th, 
1914, making an unbroken run of 604 performances. 
Miss Taylor opened her London engagement on 
Saturday, October 10th, 1914, at the Comedy 
Theater, from which theater she later transferred 
the Comedy to the Globe Theater, and appeared 
in it there until October 18th, 191 5. In all, the part 
of " Peg " was played by Miss Taylor in the United 
States and England for 1,099 performances. 

The comedy has been performed in the United 
States and in Canada 5,987 times, eight companies 
at one time touring it during the season of 191 4- 
1915; 1,001 times in London, during which run it 
was played at the Comedy, Globe, Apollo and St. 
James's Theaters ; 2,475 times in the English 
provinces ; 457 times in Australia and New Zealand ; 
and 191 times in South Africa. In Australia it holds 
the record run of any comedy, having been played 
at the Palace Theater, Sydney, for fourteen con- 
secutive weeks, totalling 112 performances. 

It has also been played in India and the Far East, 
and in Holland, and arrangements have been made 
for its translation and adaptation into French, 
Italian and Spanish. 

The total number of performances recorded to 
date in all parts of the world is 10,233. 

April 15th, 1918. 



The following is a copv of the programme of the first 
performance of "PEG 6' MY HEART" at the Cort 
Theater, New York City. 



FRIDAY, DECEMBER 20th, 1912. 
LAURETTE TAYLOR 

IN A COMEDY OF YOUTH IN THREE ACTS 
ENTITLED 

PEG O' MY HEART 

By J. Hartley Manners 

(Produced under the personal direction of the 
author) 



Oh, there's nothing half so sweet in life 
As Love's young dream ". 



CHARACTERS 

(In the order of their first appearance) 

Mrs. Chichester Miss Emilie Melville 

Footman Mr. Peter Bassett 

Ethel, Mrs. Chichester's daughter, Miss Christine 

Norman 
Alaric, Mrs. Chichester's son, Mr. Hassard Short 

Christian Brent Mr. Reginald Mason 

Peg Miss Laurette Taylor 

Montgomery Hawkes, solicitor, Mr. Clarence 

Handy side 

Maid Miss Ruth Gartland 

Jerry Mr. H. Reeves-Smith 

7 



THE SCENES OF THE COMEDY 



Act I. The Coming of Peg. 
Act II. The Rebellion of Peg. 
Act III. Peg O' My Heart. 

The entire action of the comedy passes in the 
living-room of Regal Villa, Mrs. Chichester's house 
in Scarborough, England, in early summer. 

One month elapses between Acts I and II, and a 
single night passes between Acts II and III. 

NOTE: The curtain will descend in Act II to 
denote the passing of a few hours. 

8 



The following Is a copv of the programme of the first 
performance of "PEG O 5 MY HEART" at the Comedy 
Theatre, London. 



SATURDAY, OCTOBER 10th, 1914. 
LAURETTE TAYLOR 

IN A COMEDY OF YOUTH IN THREE ACTS 
ENTITLED 

PEG O' MY HEART 

By J. Hartley Manners 

(Produced under the personal direction of the 
author) 

" Oh, there's nothing half so sweet in life 
As Love's young dream ". 

" Jerry " Mr. A. E. Matthews 

Alaric Chichester Mr. Percy Ames 

Montgomery Hawkes Mr. J. H. Barnes 

Christian Brent Mr. Eille Norwood 

Jarvis Mr. Albert Sims 

Mrs. Chichester Miss Helen Ferrers 

Ethel Chichester. . .Miss Violet Kemble Cooper 

Bennett Miss Bettina Forest 

" Peg " Miss Laurette Taylor 



THE SCENES OF THE COMEDY 

Act I. The Coming of Peg. 
Act II. The Rebellion of Peg. 
Act III. Peg O' My Heart. 

The entire action of the comedy passes at Regal 
Villa, Mrs. Chichester's house in Scarborough in 
early summer. 

One month elapses between Acts I and II. 

A single night passes between Acts II and III. 

NOTE: The curtain will be lowered in Act II for 
one minutes to denote the lapse of a few hours. 

10 



LORD CHAMBERLAIN'S OFFICE, 

St. James's Palace, S. W. 

Sept. 2 1 st, 1914. 

Sir: 

In reply to your letter of the 19th, instant. I am 
desired by the Lord Chamberlain to inform you that 
the play " Peg O' My Heart " was licensed to the 
Manager of the St. James's Theatre on June 5th, 
1912. 

Yours faithfully, 
H. TRENDELL, 

For Assistant Comptroller. 

J. HARTLEY MANNERS, ESQ. 
11 



THE CHARACTERS IN THE COMEDY 

Mrs. Chichester 

Alaric Her son 

Ethel Her daughter 

Montgomery Hawkes Solicitor 

Christian Brent 
Footman (Jarvis) 
Maid (Bennett) 
" Jerry " 

and 
" Peg " 



PEG O' MY HEART 



ACT I 

" THE COMING OF PEG " 

Scene: The action of the entire comedy passes in 
a living-room in an old Tudor house in Scar- 
borough, England. It is a solid, massive room 
on the ground level opening into a garden. 
Windozvs c. and R. Through the windows c. 
can be seen pathzvays winding away between 
lines of old, tall trees to the sea, and through the 
window R. can be seen an old garden with 
flowers in full bloom. Jasmine and creepers 
climb up the porch. 

The room is furnished for the most part with 
solid old furniture; an oak table c. on which 
are books, papers, magazines, methodically ar- 
ranged; further dozvn r. an arm-chair; down 
l. against zvall a zvriting-desk ; a grand piano 
R. on zvhich is a mass of music, a marble 
statuette of Cupid, several framed photos, vases 
of flowers, etc. On the walls ate some excel- 
lent pictures framed in oak. Lounges, com- 
fortable arm-chairs, etc., are distributed about 
the room. The whole effect is of ease, comfort, 
and good taste. 

A flight of tzvelve deep stairs runs up and 
off at the back l. A door l. 

The curtain rises on an empty stage. 
13 



i 4 PEG O' MY HEART 

Mrs. Chichester, a woman of fifty, hurries 
in through alcove r. back. 

Jarvis enters l. with letters on salver. 

Mrs. Chichester comes down to table C, 
and Jarvis meets her. She takes letters and 
reads, then Jarvis goes up back, pulls open the 
curtains, and then goes dozvn l. to door. 

Mrs. Chichester. Wait, Jarvis. My son ! Miss 
Ethel! At once, I must see them at once. (Mrs. 
Chichester finishes reading the letter, bursts into 
tears, sinks dozvn shivering and crying on the arm- 
chair R. C.) 

(Ethel enters l. She has a copy of " The Morning 
Post " folded back at the General News Items. 
She goes across to her mother. Footman 
exit l.) 

Ethel. Mother ! Have you seen this ? 
Mrs. Chichester. Oh, my dear Ethel ! 

{Enter Alaric r. u. e. Ethel goes to r. of her 
mother.) 

Alaric. {Moves dozen c. briskly and energetically 
into c, throwing his hat into window-seat at back) 
Hallo, Mater ! Hallo, Ethel ! 

Mrs. Chichester. {Betzvcen gasps) Alaric! 
My poor boy ! 

Alaric. (c.) What's the matter? What's up? 

Mrs. Chichester. {Seated r. c.) We're— 
{Sob) We're— {Sob) ruined! {Cries bitterly) 

Alaric. {At r. c, by his 'mother) Ruined? Go 
on! Are we, really? 

Mrs. Chichester. {Looking at letter and 
staunching her tears) Our bank has failed. Every 
penny your poor father left me was in it. We're 
beggars. 



PEG O' MY HEART 15 

Alaric. Oh, tush ! Tush and nonsense ! It can't 
be true. 

Mrs. Chichester. (Hands him letter) Read. 

Alaric. (To Ethel) Eh! 

Ethel. (Crossing to Alaric, hands him u The 
Morning Post " with thumb on paragraph, and then 
sits on high chair r.) Yes, look. 

Alaric. (a, looks at paper and reads) " Failure 
of Gifford's Bank ". (Looks at letter and reads) 
" Gifford's Bank suspended business yesterday ". 
(Looks at nezvspaper) " Gifford's Bank has closed 
its doors." Eh? (Looks blankly at Mrs. Chiches- 
ter and Ethel) 

Mrs. Chichester. (Seated r. c.) Yes. We're 
ruined. 

Ethel. Beggars ' 

Alaric. (c.) Now that's what I call a down- 
right, rotten, black-guardly shame Closed its doors, 
indeed! Why should it close its doors? That's 
what I want to know. Why — should — it? What 
right have banks to fail? Why isn't there a law 
against it? (Looking front letter and paper, at 
which he glances alternately) They should be made 
to open their doors — and keep 'em open. That's 
what we give 'em our money for — so that we can 
take it out when we want to. 

Mrs. Cliichester. Everything gone ! Ruined ! 
And at my age ! 

Alaric. (Goes to table and puts down letter and 
paper) A nice kettle of fish! That's all I can say. 
A nice kettle of fish, all a-boiling. Eh, Ethel? 

Ethel. (Quite unmoved) Pity! 

(Mrs. Chichester moans.) 

Alaric. (Crosses to Mrs. Chichester) Don't, 
worry, Mater. (Buttons his coat determinedly) 
I'll go down and tell 'em just what I think of 'em. 



1 6 PEG O' MY HEART 

They can't play the fool with me. Don't you care, 
Mater. You've got a son, thank God. And one 
no bank can take liberties with. What we put in 
there we've got to have out. That's all I can say. 
We've simply — got — to — have — it — out. I've said 
it. (Crosses into L. c.) 

Mrs. Chichester. It's bankrupt! 

Ethel. Failed ! 

Mrs. Chichester. We're beggars. I must live 
on charity the rest of my life. The guest of rela- 
tions I've always hated the sight of, and who've al- 
ways hated me. Oh! (Weeps) 

Alaric (Crosses to r. c. to his mother, comforts 
her, and speaks to Ethel) Don't you think we'll 
get anything? 

Ethel. (Shakes her head) Nothing. 

Ethel. (Unbottoning his coat, goes limp) I 
always thought bank directors were a lot of 
blighters. Good Lord, what a mess! 

(Mrs. Chichester looks up at him.) 

Alaric What's to become of Ethel? 

Mrs. Chichester. (Looking up at Alaric) 
Whoever shelters me must take Ethel as well. 

Alaric Shocking tough, old girl. (Looking 
across at Ethel) 

Ethel. (Shakes her head determinedly) No. 

Alaric. No? What? 

Ethel. Charity. 

Alaric (Shivers) Cold-blooded word. What 
will you do? 

Ethel. Work. 

Alaric What at? 

Ethel. Teach. 

Alaric (r. c.) Teach! Who in the wide world 
can you teach ? 

Ethel. Children. 

Alaric Oh, come! That's rich! Eh, Mater? 



PEG O' MY HEART 17 

Ethel teachin' grubby little children their A. B. C's. 
Tush ! 

Ethel. Must. 

Alaric. A Chichester teach ! 

Ethel. (With imperative gesture) Settled! 
(Rises up R. to piano) 

Alaric. (Determinedly buttoning up his coat 
again) Very well then, I'll work too. (Faces 
front) 

Mrs. Chichester. Oh, Alaric! 

Alaric. I'll put my hand to the plough. (With 
increased energy) The more I think of it the 
keener I am to begin. From to-day I'll be a workin' 
man. 

Ethel. (By piano R,, laughs mirthlessly and 
superciliously) Ha ! 

Alaric. (Turning quickly to her) And may I 
ask why that "Ha"? (To Mrs. Chichester c.) 
There is nothing I couldn't do if I was really put to 
it, not a single thing. 

Mrs. Chichester. (Proudly) I know that, 
dear. But it's dreadful to think of you working. 

Alaric. Not at all. I'm just tingling all over at 
the thought of it. Only reason I haven't so far is 
because I never had to. But now that I have, I'll 
just buckle on my armor, so to speak, and astonish 
you all. (Leans on table c.) 

Ethel, (r., above piano, laughs again) Ha! 

Alaric. Please don't laugh in that cheerless way, 
Ethel. (Shivers) It goes all down my spine. 
Jerry's always telling me I ought to do something; 
that the world is for the worker, and all that. 
Now I'm goin' to show him. (Suddenly) I say, 
what's to-day? (Looks at date of newspaper) 
The first? June the first. Jerry's comin' to-day. 
All his family. They've taken " Noel's Folly " on 
the hill. He's sure to look in here. (Jarvis enters 
l. with card on salver, and crosses l. c.) Couldn't 



1 8 PEG O' MY HEART 

be better. I'll put it to him as man to man. He's 
the cove to turn to in a case like this. I'll — Y 
is it? (To Jarvis, who holds out salver to him, 
picks up card and reads it) Chris Brent! 

Mrs. Chichester. (Rising, goes to Ethel) Oh, 
I can't see anyone. 

Alaric. Nor I. I'm all strung up. (To Jarvis) 
Tell Mr. Brent we're out. (Puts card back on 
salver) 

Ethel. I'll see Mr. Brent here. 

(Exit Jarvis l.) 

Mrs. Chichester. Thank you, dear. My head's 
throbbing. I'll go to my room. (Goes to stairs l. 
round back of table) 

Alaric (Following Mrs. Chichester to stairs, 
passing up l., gets l. of her) All right, Mater. 
And don't worry. Leave everything to me. I'll 
thrash the whole thing out — absolutely thrash it 
out. 

Mrs. Chichester. (On stairs, to Ethel) Come 
to me when he goes, dear. 

Ethel. Yes, Mother. 

(Mrs. Chichester passes up the stairs out of 
sight.) 

Alaric (Grossing to window up back, picks up 
hat) Awful business, Ethel. 

Ethel. (Has come to front of table) Pretty 
bad. 

Alaric Really goin' to teach? (Down r. of 
table to r. c.) 

Ethel, (c) Yes. 

Alaric. Right. I'll find something, too. We'll 
pull through somehow 

Ethel. (Indicating door l.) Mr. Brent's com- 
ing. 



PEG O' MY HEART 19 

Alaric. Jolly good of you to let him bore you. 
(Going to alcove R.) Hate the sight of the beggar 
myself. Always looks like the first conspirator at 
the play. (The door l. opens. Alaric hurries out 
through the alcove r. back) 

(Jarvis shows in Christian Brent, a dark, eager, 
pleasure-loving looking young man of twenty- 
five. Ethel, for the first time, sJwzvs some 
animation as he enters and shakes her hand. 
Jarvis exit l.) 

Brent. Well, how are you? (They shake 
hands) 

Ethel, (c.) i H air. (Draws her hand away, 
which he has kept) 

Brent, (l. c.) Your mother? 

Ethel. Lying down. 

Brent. Alaric ? 

Ethel. Out there. 

Brent. (Glances quickly at the garden) Then 
we've a moment or two alone? 

Ethel. I suppose so. 

Brent. Oh, Ethel. (He goes to embrace her, 
she d razes back and crosses to couch l. and sits. 
He follows her to l. c.) Glad to see me? 

Ethel. Why not? 

Brent. (He sits beside her, r. of her) I am to 
see you — more than glad. 

Ethel. Why ? 

Brent. I'm at the cross-roads. 

Ethel. Really? 

Brent. It came last night. 

Ethel. Oh ! 

Brent. This is the end between me and my wife. 

Ethel. Is it? 

Brent. Yes. The end. It's been wretched. 
We've not one thought in common. There's not a 



20 PEG O' MY HEART 

word of mine — not an action — that she doesn't mis- 
understand. 

Ethel. How boring! 

Brent. She'd see harm even in this. 

Ethel. Why? 

Brent. She'd think I was here to — to 

Ethel. What? 

Brent. Make love to you. 

Ethel. Well. Aren't you ? 

Brent. Ethel ! 

Ethel. Don't you — always? 

Brent. How can you say that? 

Ethel. Don't you? 

Brent. (On couch) Has it seemed like that to 

Ethel. Yes — by insinuation. Never strai 
forwardly. 

Brent. Has it offended you? 

Ethel. Ah ! Then you admit it ? 

Brent. (Moves a little nearer) Oh, I wish I had 
the right to — (Stops) 
hel. Yes ? 

Brent. Make love to you straightforwardly. 

Ethel. Then you wouldn't do it. 

Brent. Ethel ! 

Ethel. It's only because you haven't the right 
that you do it — by suggestion. 

Brent. (Starts back in disgust) Why do you 
think that? 

Ethel. You don't deny it. 

Brent. What a contemptible opinion you must 
have of me. (Rises, crosses up l. of table) 

Ethel. Then we're quits, aren't we? 

Brent, (l. c.) How? (Turns to her) 

Ethel. You have a contemptible opinion of 
me. 

Brent. Why? (Comes down a little) 

Ethel. You must have. Every married man has 



PEG O' MY HEART 21 

a contemptible opinion of the woman he covertly 
makes love to. If he hadn't he couldn't do it. 

Brent, (l. c.) I don't follow you. 

Ethel. Haven't you had time to think of an 
answer ? 

Brent. I don't know what you're driving at. 

Ethel. (Smiles) No? I think you do. (Brent 
makes movement azvay. Pause) What happened 
last night? 

Brent. Why, she — (Moves towards her, then 
stops) No. I'd sound like a cad, blaming a woman. 

Ethel. Never mind how it sounds, tell it. 

Brent. (Comes to couch, knee on it, over her) 
The more I look at you and listen to you the more 
I realize I should never have married. 

Ethel. Oh ! Why did you ? 

Brent. (Sits beside her, back to the audience) 
Why? Have you ever seen a. young hare, fresh 
from its kind, run headlong into a snare? Have 
you ever seen a young man straight from college 
dash into a net? I did. I wasn't trap-wise. Good 
God, what nurslings we are when we first feel our 
feet! We're like children just loose from the lead- 
ing-strings. Anything that glitters catches us. 
Every trap that is set for our unwary feet we drop 
into. I did. Dropped in. Caught hand and foot, 
mind and soul. 
_ Ethel. Soul ? 

Brent. Yes. 

Ethel. Don't you mean body? 

Brent. Well, body, mind, and soul. 

Ethel. Ah! Body anyway. 

Brent. And for what ? Love ? Companionship ! 
That's what we build on in marriage. And what 
did I realize ? Hate and wrangling. Then came the 
baby. 

Ethel. Ah! (She turns azvay) 

Brent. One would think that would chansre 



22 PEG O' MY HEART 

things. But, no. Neither of us wanted her — 
neither of us loved her. {Look from Ethel) 
And then — (Pause) I shouldn't tell you this. It's 
horrible. I see it in your face. (Pause) What are 
you thinking? 

Ethel. I'm sorry. 

Brent. For me? 

Ethel. For your wife. 

Brent. My wife? 

Ethel. Yes. Aren't you? (He turns away. 
Pause) No? (Pause) Just sorry for yourself? 

Brent. You think me purely selfish? 

Ethel. Naturally. / am. (Pause. Brent turns 
\th a sulky movement) Don't sulk. Let's 
be truthful — sometimes. 

•XT. (Suddenly, facing her) We quarrelled 
last night — about you. 
el. Really? 
ent. Gossip has linked us together. She 
heard it. Put the worst construction on it. 

Ethel. Well? What did you do? 

Brent. (Rises and walks round table) I left 
the house and walked the streets — hours. I looked 
my whole life back as if it were some stran 
I tell you, we ought to be taught. We ought to be 
tit what marriage means. (Comes dozvn r.) 
Just as we are taught not to steal or lie or sin. In 
marriage, when we a \ated, we do all < 

We steal affection from someone else, we lie in our 
lives, we sin in our relationship. (Turning r.) 

Ethel. (Rises and crosses to l. of table) Do 
you mean that you're a sinner, a thief, and a liar? 

Brent. Ethel ! 

Ethel. {Sits l. of table) Oh, take some of the 
blame. Don't put it all on the woman. (He turns 
away) What do you intend to do? 

Brent. (Front of table) Separate. The only 
thing. You don't doctor a poisoned limb when your 



PEG O' MY HEART 23 

life is at stake. You cut it off. When two lives 
generate poison, face it as a surgeon would. 
Amputate. 

Ethel. And after the operation ? What then ? 

Brent. (Leaning over front of table) That is 
why I'm here — facing you. 

Ethel. But if we generate poison — what will 
you do? Amputate me? 

Brent. You are different from all other women. 

Ethel. Didn't you tell your wife that when you 
asked her to marry you? 

Brent. (Turns away) Don't say those things. 
They hurt. (Going around R. of table) . 

Ethel. I'm afraid, Chris, I'm too frank. Aren't 
I? 

Brent. (Leaning over, at back of table) You 
stand alone. You seem to look into the hearts of 
people and know why and how they beat. 

Ethel. (Meaningly) Do I? It's an awkward 
faculty sometimes, isn't it? 

Brent. How marvellously different two women 
can be — you and my wife. (Again back of tabic) 

Ethel. We're not really very different. Only 
some natures like change. Yours does. And the 
new has all the virtues. I mightn't last as lone: as 
your wife did. 

Brent. (Standing close to her, over her) Don't 
say that. We have a common bond — understanding. 

Ethel. Think so? 

Brent. I understand you. 

Ethel. I wonder. 

Brent. You do me. 

Ethel. That's just it. 

Brent. I tell you I'm at the cross-roads. The 
finger-post points the way to me distinctly. (Pause. 
Sits in chair back of table, close to her) Would 
you risk it? 

Ethel. (Turning en him) What? 



24 PEG O' MY HEART 

:;t. I'll hide nothing. I'll put fore 

you. The sr.i nds, life in some little 

Continental village, "are- cling the passers-through, 

i — No. It wouldn't be fair to you. 

eiel. (Slowly) No. I don't think it would. 

However, I'll think it over and let you know. 

Brent. (To Ethel, eagerly) When she sets me 
free we could — we could — (Stops) 

Ethel. It isn't 

it? 

Brent. rry me? 

till I reach them, 

■ such a long way from that one, aren't we ? 

Brent. (Rises) Ethel! (She rises. He puts 

. .' l. c. in 

of bench) Then I'm to wait? (Comes d 

h her) 

Ethel. Yes., do. 'When the time comes to accept 

the charity of is or do something useful for 

::ce a week, who knows? When a woman has 

oose between charity and labor — who knows? 

Ethel. sits) A tiresome 

bank has failed with all our sixpences locked up in 
it. Isn't it stupid? 

Brent. (Follows her to couch) Is all your 
money gone? 

Ethel. Everything. 
xt. Good God! 

Ethel. Mamma knows as little about business 
as she does about me. Until this morning she has 
always had a rooted belief in her bank and her 
daughter. If I bolt with you her last cherished 
illusion will be destroved. 

Brent, (r. of ccucli) Let me help you. 

Ethel. How? Lend us monev? 

Brent. I'll do that if— (Ethel looks at him) 
I beg your pardon. 



- : 

; 

Bkekt. zt hand \jA ok 

Ethel 

ame 

— 
:;rr.t. 7r.tr. I 

H : 

I 
j'n<7 c: r Heaven 

a — I net \ 

Zv:£zi. 7 I r 

V 
:: me. I've non : 

i 
to her I 7 be 

[ yon — 

Down i Me fig '-' — 

.eanly 
dressed in c 
cheap straw he: ft which he 

profusion of short, nai 

r eddish hair. She is carrying a bag and a 
I 

- 
n t, and altogether xcefml look 

to the roam, t 



26 PEG O' MY HEART 

down r. c, sees Brent and Ethel in the em- 
brace, turns away and sits in chair r. of table 
with her back to them.) 

Ethel. Please don't. It's so hot this morning. 
(Sees Peg over Brent's r. shoulder, straightens up 
with a quick movement, and swings Brent round. 
They look in horrified amazement at the strange 
little figure. Ethel goes to her) How long have 
you been here? (Crosses to c. of table) 

Peg. (r. of table, with a delightfully slight Irish 
brogue, looking up innocently in Ethel's eyes) I 
just came in. 

Ethel. What do you want ? 

Peg. I don't want anything. I was told I must 
wait at this place. 

Ethel. Who told you? 

Peg. A gentleman. 

Ethel. What gentleman? 

Peg. Just a gentleman. He told me to wait — at 
the place that is written down on the card. (Hands 
her a soiled visiting card. Brent is l. staring at 
Peg) 

Ethel. (In front of table, taking card, reads) 
"Mrs. Chichester, Regal Villa". What do you 
want with Mrs. Chichester? 

Peg. I don't want anything. I was told I must 
wait here. (Taking card back) 

Ethel. Who are you? 

Peg. I wasn't to say anything. I was only to 
wait. 

(Ethel turns to Brent. Brent l. c. is looking 
admiringly at the little stranger.) 

Ethel. (Pauses and looks at Brent then turns 
again to Peg) You say you've only been here a 
minute ? 



PEG O' MY HEART 27 

Peg. Just a minute. 

Ethel. Were we talking when you came in ? 

Peg. Ye were. 

Ethel. Did you hear what we said? 

Peg. Yes, I did. {Look between Ethel and 
Brent) 

Ethel. What did you hear? 

Peg. I heard you say " Please don't. It's so hot 
this morning ". 

(Brent moves up l.) 

Ethel. (Pauses) You refuse to say why you're 
here or who you are? 

Peg. I don't refuse at all. The gentleman said 
to me, he said, " You go to the place that's written 
down on the card, and you sit down at the house, 
and you wait, and that's all you do — just wait ". 

Ethel. (Turning to Brent) Eh? 

Brent. Extraordinary. 

Ethel. (Coming back to table) The servants' 
quarters are at the back of the house. 

Peg. Yes. 

Ethel, (c. front of table) And I may save you 
the trouble of waiting by telling you that we don't 
need any assistants. We're quite provided for. 

Peg. Yes. 

Ethel. (Pause) If you insist on waiting, kindly 
do so there. (Turns again to Brent) 

Peg. Well, we're not particular where we wait as 
long as we wait. They're sending us to the kitchen, 
Michael. (Rising up to opening r.) At the back 
of the house, Miss? 

Ethel. Follow that path round until you come 
to a door. Knock, and ask permission to wait there. 
(Peg gathers her bundles and her dog under her 
arms and goes to arch r. u. e. on to top of step) 
For your future guidance, go to the back door of 



2% PEG O' MY HEART 

a house and knock. Don't walk, unannounced, into 
a private room. 

Peg. (In arch) Ye see, ma'am, I couldnt tell it 
was a private room. The blinds were all up and the 
door was open. I couldn't tell it was a private 
room. 

Ethel. That will do. That will do. 

Peg. And I couldn't knock on your door because 
it's a windy. (Peg exit arch r. u. e. and crosses 
to L.) 

Ethel. (After watching her off, moves down l., 
very angry) Outrageous! 

Brent. (Crossing up to window R. u. e.) Poor 
little wretch. She's rather pretty. 

Ethel. (Looking intelligently at him) Is she? 

Brent. Didn't you think so? 

Ethel. (Comes up to table c.) I never notice 
the lower orders. You apparently do. 

Brent. (Comes down r. level with her) She's 
the strangest little apparition 

Ethel. She's only a few yards away if you care 
to — (Turns to Brent) 

Brent. Ethel! (Comes down nearer to her) 

Ethel, (c.) Suppose my mother had come in ! 
Or Alaric! Never do such a thing again. 

Brent. I was carried away. I 

Ethel. Kindly exercise a little more restraint. 
You'd better go now. (Crosses to stairs up l.) 

Brent. (Following her to stairs round back of 
table) May I come to-morrow? 

Ethel. No. Not to-morrow. 

Brent. Then the following day? 

Ethel. Perhaps. 

Brent. Ethel, remember I build on you. 

Ethel. (Looking at him) I suppose we arc 
worthy of each other. 

(Voices off r.) 



PEG O' MY HEART 29 

Alaric. (Off) Come this way, Mr. Hawkes. 
I think we shall find some of the family in here. 
Ethel. (To Brent) Go now. (Goes upstairs) 

(As Brent goes to door l. Alaric hurries in 
through window R. u. e., sees Ethel, puts hat 
on piano.) 

Alaric. Wait a minute, Ethel. (Seeing Brent) 
Hello, Brent! How are you? Disturbin' you? 

Brent. No. I'm just going. 

Alaric. Oh, don't go. I want to ask you some- 
thing. (He goes up to arch and calls to someone 
in the garden) Come in, Mr. Hawkes. (Crosses 
to c. Enter Montgomery Hawkes, a suave, pol- 
ished, important-looking man of forty. Alaric 
comes back, introducing) Mr. Hawkes — my sister 
— Mr. Brent. (Hawkes bows to Ethel and to 
Brent and puts hat on table c. Alaric to Ethel) 
You might see if the Mater's well enough to come 
down, like a dear, will ye? This gentleman's come 
all the way from London just to see her. D'ye 
mind? Bring her down here, will you? (Ethel 
goes upstairs and out of sight. To Hawkes) Sit 
down, Mr. Hawkes. (Hawkes sits in armchair 
r. Alaric goes down l. to Brent) Must ye go? 
(Alaric l., shaking him warmly by the hand and 
taking him to door l.) Sorry I was out. Run in 
any time. Always delighted to see you. Oh, I know 
what it was I wanted to ask you — Angel wife all 
right ? 

Brent. Thank you. 

Alaric. And the darling child? 

Brent. Please give my remembrances to your 
mother. 

Alaric. Certainly. Look in any time. Any time 
at all. (Exit Brent l., Alaric closes door. ' Mrs. 
Chichester and Ethel, carrying dog, a little French 



30 PEG O' MY HEART 

poodle, come down the stairs l. Hawkes rises. 
Mrs. Chichester to l. c, Ethel to bench, sits l. 
Alaric goes up and brings Mrs. Chichester down. 
r. of her, and looking up at her as she comes down- 
stairs) Here we are, Mater. I found this gentle- 
man in a rose-bed enquiring for our lodge. He's 
come all the way from dear old London just to see 
you. (Brings Mrs. Chichester dozun l. c, bring- 
ing them together and introducing them. Alaric is 
C.) Mr. Hawkes — my mother. 

Mrs. Chichester, (l. c. anxiously) You've 
come to see me? 

Hawkes. On a very important and very private 
family matter. 

Mrs. Chichester. Important? Private? 

Alaric. We're the family, Mr. Hawkes. 

Mrs. Chichester. (Her eyes filling) Is it bad 
news ? 

Hawkes. (Genially) Oh, no. 

Alaric. Is it good news? 

Hawkes. (Up r. of table) In a measure. 

Alaric. (Helps Mrs. Chichester to couch) 
Ah, then let's get at it. We can do with a bit of 
good news, can't we, Mater? Wait. Is it by any 
chance about the bank? (Crosses to l. of tabic) 

Hawkes. (To Mrs. Chichester) It's about 
your late brother, Nathaniel. 

Mrs. Chichester. Late? Is Nathaniel dead? 

(Alaric l. of tabic.) 

Hawkes. (Pauses r. of table. Nods coni- 
miscratingly) Ten days ago. I am one of the ex- 
ecutors of the late gentleman's estate. (Sits R. of 
table c, and gets out his papers) 

Mrs. Chichester. (Weeps) Oh! 

Alaric. Poor old Nat ! Eh, Ethel ? 

Ethel, (l. end of couch) Never saw him. 



PEG O' MY HEART 31 

Mrs. Chichester. I ought to have been in- 
formed. The funeral 

Hawkes. (Seated r. of table) There was no 
funeral. 

Alaric. No funeral? 

Hawkes. In obedience to his written wishes he 
was cremated, and no one was present except his 
chief executor and myself. He said he so little 
regretted not having seen any of his relations for 
the last twenty years that he was sure they would 
equally little regret his death. On no account was 
anyone to wear mourning for him, nor to express 
any open sorrow. They wouldn't feel it, so why 
lie about it? 

Mrs. Chichester. What? 

Alaric. Eh ? 

Hawkes. I use his own words. 

Alaric. (l. of table) What a rum old bird! 
Eh. Mater? 

Mrs. Chichester, (r. end of couch) He was 
always the most unfeeling, the most heartless 

Hawkes. Now, in his will 

Mrs. Chichester. (Checking herself) Eh? 

Alaric A will! Did the dear old gentleman 
leave a will? 

(Ethel watches them smilingly and listens intently.) 

Hawkes. I have come here to make you ac- 
quainted with some of its contents. 

Alaric (Rubbing his hands gleefully) Dear 
old Nat. I remember him when I was a baby.. A 
portly, sandy-haired old buck, with three jolly chins. 

Hawkes. (Gravely) He was white towards the 
end, and very thin. 

Alaric (l. of table) Was he? It just shows, 
doesn't it? How much did he leave? (Goes back 
of toble) 



32 PEG O' MY HEART 

Hawkes. His estate is valued approximately at 
two hundred thousand pounds. 

Alaeic. (Whistles) Phew! (Sits back of 
table c.) 

Mes. Chichestee. (Cries silently) Perhaps it 
was my fault I didn't see him oftener 

Alaeic. How did he split it up? 

Hawkes. To his immediate relations he left 

Alaeic. Yes ? 

(Mes. Chichestee looks up through her tears, and 
Ethel shows a little interest.) 

Hawkes. I regret to say — nothing. 

Alaeic. What? 

Mrs. Chichestee. Nothing? 

(Ethel turns away.) 

Alaeic. Not a penny piece to anyone? 

Hawkes. No. 

Mrs. Chichester. , His own flesh and blood! 

Alaeic. (Back of table) What a shabby old 
beggar ! 

Mes. Chichestee. He was always the most 
selfish, the most heartless 

Hawkes. (Turning back the pages of the will 
and reading) Here it is from the will. " I am not 
going to leave one penny of what I have spent my 
life accumulating to people who are already well 
provided for." 

Mes. Chichestee. (Rises and crosses to l. c. 
front of table) But we're not well provided for. 

Alaeic. (Rises) No. Our bank's bust. 

Mes. Chichester. We're ruined. 

Alaeic. Broke. 

Mes. Chichestee. We've nothing. (Alaeic 
hands letter from table to Mes. Chichestee, who 
hands it to Hawkes) 



PEG O' MY HEART 33 

Alaric. Not threppence. 

Hawkes. (Back of table) Dear! Dear! How 
extremely distressing ! 

Alaric. (Back of table) Distressing Dis- 
giistin' ! 

Hawkes. (Hands letter back to Alaric, who 
gives it to his in other) Then perhaps a clause in his 
will may have a certain interest. 

Alaric. (Helps Mrs. Chichester to chair l. of 
table, then sits again. All express interest) Clause ! 
Did the dear old gentleman leave a clause? 

Hawkes. When Mr. Kingsnorth realized that 
he hadn't very much longer to live he spoke con- 
stantly of his other sister, Angela. 

Mrs. Chichester. (Seated l. of table) But 
she's dead. 

Hawkes. (Looking up) That was why he spoke 
of her. 

Mrs. Chichester. Never a word of me? 

Hawkes. We'll come to that later. (Refers to 
papers) It appears that this sister, Angela, married 
at the age of eighteen a certain improvident Irish- 
man by the name of O'Connell, was cut off by her 
family 

Mrs. Chichester. The man was a beggar! It 
was a disgrace ! 

Alaric. (Checking her) Mater! 

Hawkes. (Continuing to read) — went to the 
United States of America with her husband, where 
a daughter was born. After going through many 
conditions of misery with her husband, who never 
seemed to prosper, she died while her child was still 
a baby. Mr. Kingsnorth elsewhere expresses his 
lasting regret that in one of his sister's acute stages 
of distress she wrote to him, asking him for the first 
time to assist her. He replied (Looking up) 
" You've made your bed — lie in it ". 



34 PEG O' MY HEART 

Mrs. Chichester. She had disgraced the family. 
He was quite right. 

Alaric. {Checks her) Mater! Mater! He 
hasn't got the old gentleman's clause out yet. Go 
on, Mr. Hawkes. 

Hawkes. With death approaching, Mr. Kings- 
north's conscience began to trouble him, and the 
remembrance of his treatment of his unfortunate 
sister distressed him. If the child were still alive 
he wanted to see her. So I made enquiries and 
found that the girl was living with her father in 
very poor circumstances in the city of New York. 

Alaric. New York, eh? Fancy that, Ethel! 
New York ! 

Hawkes. We sent sufficient funds for the 
journey and a request to the father to allow her to 
visit Mr. Kingsnorth in England. The father con- 
sented. However, before she sailed, Mr. Kings- 
north died. 

Alaric. (Seated back of table) Died! Too 
bad! That really was too bad, Ethel. Eh? Died! 
(To Ethel and Mrs. Chichester) 

Hawkes. Realizing that he would never see her 
he made the most extraordinary provision for her 
in his will. 

Mrs. Chichester. He provided for her, and 



(Alaric checks her and kisses her hand.) 

Hawkes. Here is the provision. (Reads) " I 
hereby direct that to any respectable, well-connected 
women of breeding and family who will undertake 
the education and up-bringing of my niece, Margaret 
O'Connell, in accordance with the dignity and tradi- 
tion of the Kingsnorths there be paid the sum of 
one thousand pounds a year " 



PEG O' MY HEART 35 

Alaric. A thousand pounds a year ! Fancy that, 
Ethel ! A thousand pounds ! 

Hawkes. (Reading) "If at the expiration of 
one year my niece is found to be, in the judgment 
of my executors, unworthy of further interest she 
is to t>e returned to her father and the sum of two 
hundred and fifty pounds a year paid her to provide 
her with the necessities of life. But if, on the other 
hand, she proves herself worthy of the best tradi- 
tions of the Kingsnorth family the course of training 
is to be continued until she reaches the age of 
twenty-one, when I hereby bequeath to her the sum 
of five thousand pounds a year " 

Alaric. Five thousands pounds a year ! I mean 
to say — five thousand pounds. 

Hawkes. " — to be paid her annually out of my 
estate during her lifetime, and to be continued after 
her death to any male issue she may have " 

Mrs. Chichester. (Looks up) Eh? 

Hawkes. — by marriage. 

Mrs. Chichester. And me — his own sister 

Alaric. And I — who knew him as a babv 



Hawkes. " On no account is her father to be 
permitted to visit her, and she must not on any 
account visit her father. After the age of twenty- 
one she can do as she pleases". (Looking up) 

Alaric. That clause doesn't interest us at all, 
Mr. Hawkes. 

Hawkes. Now my dear Mrs. Chichester, it was 
Mr. Kingsnorth's wish that the first person to be 
approached on the matter of undertaking the train- 
ing of the young lady should be you. 

Mrs. Chichester. (Rising) I? 

Alaric. (Rising) My mother? 

(Ethel rises also, ana! listens and watches intently.) 
Hawkes. (Referring to will) He said he would 



36 PEG O' MY HEART 

be " sure at least of a strict upbringing in the best- 
traditions of the Kingsnorths, and though narrow 
and conventional in ideas " 

Mrs. Chichester. Well ! Really ! 

Hawkes. Again I use his own words. — " still, 
his sister Monica was eminently fitted to undertake 
such a charge ". There you have the whole object 
of my visit. (Rises) Now will you undertake the 
training of the young lady? 

Mrs. Chichester. (Crosses to couch) I never 
heard of such a thing. 

Ethel. Ridiculous ! 

Alaric. (Coming down l. c.) Tush! Tush and 
nonsense ! 

Hawkes. Then I take it you refuse? 

Mrs. Chichester, (r. end of couch) Absolutely. 

Ethel. Entirely. 

Alaric. (l. c.) I should say so. 

Hawkes. Then there's nothing more to be said. 
Mr. Kingsnorth was of the opinion that you were 
well provided for, and that the additional thousand 
a year might be welcome as, say, pin-money for 
your daughter. (Gathering up papers at table. 
Ethel and Mrs. Chichester look at each other. 
They draw a little away to front of bench) 

Ethel. (With a note of biting sarcasm) Pin- 
money ! Ha ! 

Alaric. (Corning dozen level with Mrs. 
Chichester) Mater! Ethel! A cool thousand, 
eh? 

Mrs. Chichester. (Pause) It would keep 
things together. 

Alaric. The wolf from the door. 

Ethel. No charity. 

Mrs. Chichester. (To Alaric) What do vou 
think? 

Alaric. Whatever you say, Mater. 

Mrs. Chichester. (To Ethel) Ethel? 



PEG O' MY HEART 37 

Ethel. You decide, Mamma. 

Mrs. Chichester. (To Alaric) We might try 
it for a while, at least. 

Alaric. Until we can look round. 

Mrs. Chichester. Something may be saved 
from the wreck. 

Alaric. Until / get really started. 

Mrs. Chichester. (To Etliel) Ethel? 

Ethel. Whatever you decide, Mamma. 

Mrs. Chichester. I'll do it. (Alaric turns tip- 
stage a little) It will be hard, but I'll do it. (Crosses 
into c. All turn round to Hawkes. Ethel sits on 
couch) 

Hawkes. (r. c. smiling) Well? 

Mrs. Chichester. For the sake of my poor dead 
sister I'll do as Nathaniel wished. 

Hawkes. Good! I'm delighted. (Comes down 
r. a little. Mrs. Chichester turns to Alaric) 
One thing more. (Mrs. Chichester turns to 
Hawkes again) The young lady is not to be told 
of the conditions of the will unless at the discretion 
of the executors, should some crisis arise. She will 
be, to all intents and purposes, your guest. 

Alaric. Our guest ? Fancy that, Ethel ! 

Hawkes. In that way we'll arrive at a more 
exact idea of her character. Is that understood? 

Mrs. Chichester. Very well. 

Hawkes. Where is your bell? 

Alaric. There. (Points to bell up r. and moves 
to foot of stairs) 

Hawkes. (Going up r.) May I ring? 

Alaric. (Going up l. a little) Certainly. Want 
a sandwich or something? 

Hawkes. I would like to send for the young 
lady. (Smiling, J te rings) The heiress. 

Mrs. Chichester. (Crossing to armchair r.) 
Where is she? 

Hawkes. She arrived from New York this morn- 



3 8 PEG O' MY HEART 

ing and I brought her straight here. I had to call 
orTa client, so I gave her your address and told her 
to come here and wait. (Ethel rises) She ought 
to be here by now. (Comes down above table. 
Jarvis enters l.) Is there a young lady waiting 
for Mr. Hawkes? 
Jarvis. Young lady, sir? No, sir. (Crosses 

L. C.) 

Mrs. Chichester. That will do. 

(Jarvis moves towards door l.) 

Hawkes. That's strange. 

Alaric. There you are, you see. 

Jarvis. (Comes back to l. c.) Oh, there is a 
young person sitting in the kitchen. Won't give 
no account of herself. Says she's to wait until a 
gentleman calls. Can't get nothing out of her. 

Hawkes. That must be the young lady. May I 
bring her in? 

Mrs. Chichester. (Indignantly) My niece in 
the kitchen ! Surely you should know the difference 
between my niece and a servant ! 

Jarvis. (At l. c.) I'm truly sorry, Madam, but 
there was nothing to tell 

Mrs. Chichester. (r. front of armchair) 
That will do. Bring my niece here at once. (Exit 
Jarvis l.) It's monstrous! (Comes to c. front of 
table) 

Alaric (Crosses to r., r. of his mother) 
Stoopid ! That's what I call it — Stoopid ! 

(Ethel smiles.) 

Hawkes. (Coming round l. of table into l. c.) 
Perhaps it was my fault. I told her not to talk — 
to come here and say she was to wait. 

Mrs. Chichester. She should have been brouprit 



PEG O' MY HEART 39 

straight to me. The poor thing! My niece in the 
kitchen! {Goes back to armchair r.) A Kings- 
north mistaken for a servant! 

(The door opens and the astonished Jarvis enters 
and beckons someone in. Then he looks help- 
lessly at Mrs. Chichester to indicate that any- 
one might have made the same mistake. Enter 
the stranger, quite composedly, still holding her 
parcels and the dog. She comes to l. c. Mrs. 
Chichester, Alaric, and Ethel, look at her — 
Mrs. Chichester and Alaric in horrified 
amazement, Ethel with knit brows. Jarvis 
looks at them all, as much as to say " What did 
I tell you? No one could guess." Jarvis 
exit l.) 

Peg. {Alluding to Ethel's dog) Where's the 
rest of that? {Or) It's a dog, isn't it? 

Mrs. Chichester. {Sinks in chair r. c.) Oh! 
Oh! {Pause) 

Alaric. (By high chair r., stares at the stranger 
in astonishment and turns to Mrs. Chichester. 
Aside) Oh, I say! Really, you know! It isn't 
true. It can't be. 

Hawkes. (Crossing to meet Peg l. c.) Come 
here. We're all your friends. (Passes her across 
him to c. The stranger comes slowly to c, looking 
from one to the other. She bobs a little curtsey 
to Mrs. Chichester) 

Mrs. Chichester. (Pause. Controls herself 
with an effort. Half -hysterically) What is your 
name? 

Peg. Peg. 

Mrs. Chichester. What? 

Peg. (Bobbing a little curtsey) Peg. Peg 
O'Connell, my name is, ma'am. 

Mrs. Chichester. Good heavens ! (To Alaric) 
Ring, Alaric. 



4 o PEG O' MY HEART 

Alaric. (Whispering to his mother) It can't 
be, really. (Goes up to bell at back and ruins. 
Peg follows him round, then laughs to Mr. 
Hawkes) 

Hawkes. (Pause. To Peg) This lady is Mrs. 
Chichester. 

Peg. (r. c.) Chich — Chich — ster. 

(Alaric upstage by window N i 

Hawkes. (c, distinctly) Chi-chest-er. Your 
aunt. 

Peg. Where's my uncle? 

Hawkes. Alas, my dear child, your uncle is 
dead. 

Peg. Dead? After sending for me? 

Hawkes. He died just before you sailed. 

Peg. God rest his soul. I'm too late then. Good- 
day to yez. (Bobs and starts for door l.) 

Hawkes. (c, intercepting her) Where are you 
going ? 

Peg. (c.) Back to my father. 

Hawkes. (l. c.) Oh, dear, no. 

Peg. I must go back to my father if my uncle's 
dead. I must go back to my father. If my uncle's 
dead I must go back to my father. 

Hawkes. It was your uncle's last wish that you 
should stay here under your aunt's care. She has 
kindly consented to give you a home. 

Peg. (To Mrs. Chichester) Plave ye? 

Mrs. Chichester. (Faintly and angrily) I 
have. 

(Alaric moves down l., sits by Etpiel.) 

Peg. Thank ye, ma'am, but I think I'd be just as 
happy with my father. 

Hawkes. Nonsense. You'll be very happy 
here. 



PEG O' MY HEART 41 

(Jarvis enters l.) 

Peg. (Looking from one to the other) They 
don't seem crazy about us, do they? 

Mrs. Chichester. Jarvis, take away those 
parcels and that dog. 

(Jarvis comes into L. c.) 

Peg. (Clutching the dog) Oh, no, ma'am. Not 
Michael. Ye can't take Michael away from me. Pie 
was given to me by my father. 

Mrs. Chichester. Take it away. And never let 
it inside the house again. 

Peg. (With anger and pathos) Well, if ye don't 
want Michael inside the house ye don't want me 
inside your house. 

PIawkes. (Interposing) Come, come 

Peg. No. I'm not going to let go my dog. I had 
a hard time getting him ashore. You don't under- 
stand about Michael. He's a house-dog, not a 
watch-dog. A pet dog, Michael is. 

PIawkes. Come, now. Don't let us have an 
argument. 

Peg. I'm not having an argument. I'm making 
a statement. I don't know these people ten minutes, 
and they want to take my dog away from me. 
(Pointing to Ethel) She has a dog right in the 
house. (Hawkes looks at Ethel's dog. Peg, 
under her breath) And well ye may look. I 
thought it was her knitting until it moved. 

Hawkes. You must try to do whatever your 
aunt asks you. Come, now — you can see him when- 
ever you want to. 

Peg. Is he going to be in the house? 

Hawkes. Yes. 

Peg. If I ring the bell he'll bring him in? 
(Pointing to Jarvis) 



42 PEG O' MY HEART 

Hawkes. To be sure he will 

Peg. Wei!, I don't suppose my father would 
like me to start a fight first thing. (Gives dog to 
Hawkes) But I don't understand why I can't have 
my dog. (Hawkes gives dog to Jarvis, then takes 
the bag from her and hands it to Jarvis, ivho re- 
ceives them in disgusted amazement. The parcel 
breaks open, and a prayer-book, a small bible, a 
rosary, and a little dull-framed photograph fall out. 
Hawkes around back of table to l. Peg kneels, 
articles and hands them to Hawkes, 
who puts them on top of bag Jarvis is holding. 
Peg retains photo and rosary, caresses Michael, 
and says appealingly to Jarvis. Crossing to 
Jarvis) Yc'll be very nice to him, won't ye ? And if 
ye'll give him some water and a bone I'd be much 
obliged. He loves mutton-bones. Ye'll find he's 
crazy about mutton-bones. (The astonished Jarvis 
goes out holding the dog and the parcels as far from 
him as possible) That was a grand turn he made, 
wasn't it? (To Alaric, sitting on couch) I hope he 
gives him a mutton-bone. Michael's crazy about 
mutton, so he is. 

Mrs. Chichester. (Sternly) Come here. 
(Peg backs to her, facing Alaric) Look at me. 

(Peg turns to her.) 

Peg. Yes, ma'am. 

Mrs. Chichester. Don't call me ma'am. 

Peg. No, ma'am. (Checks herself) Ant, I 
mean. No, ant, I mean. 

Mrs. Chichester. Aunt — not " ant ". 

Alaric. (l. of couch, to Ethel) " Ant " — like 
some little crawling insect. 

Peg. (Hears it, looks at Alaric and Ethel, 
then all round the room as if she missed someone, 



PEG O' MY HEART 43 

then turns back to Mrs. Chichester) Are you my 
uncle Nat's widow? 

Mrs. Chichester. (Indignantly) I am not. 

Peg. Then how are you my ant — aurnt? 

Mrs. Chichester. I am your mother's sister. 

Peg. (r. c.) Then yer name's Monica? 

Mrs. Chichester. It is. 

Peg. What do you think of that, now? (Looks 
covertly at the photo) You don't look a bit like my 
poor mother did. 

Mrs. Chichester. What's that? 

Peg. (Softly) It's my poor mother's picture, 
that is. 

Mrs. Chichester. Let me see it. (Peg hands 
it to her) She had changed very much since I saw 
her. 

Peg. Sorrow and poverty did that, Aunt Monica. 

Mrs. Chichester. Aunt will be sufficient. Put 
it away. (Peg covers it with her hands) Do sit 
down. 

Peg. All right. Where'll I sit? (She looks at 
Alaric, who does not move. Hawkes hands her 
chair l. of table. Peg sits) Thank ye. (Mrs. 
Chichester sighs) Don't ye feel well? I don't. 
I don't like the steamer. The steamer always upsets 
me, the steamer does. (She looks round and laughs 
at Alaric. who is smoking a cigarette in a long 
holder) Does that make you think it's a pipe? 
Sure, I'd no idea in the world I had such fine rela- 
tions. Though my father always told me I had some 
very nice folks on my mother's side. 

(Hawkes back of table c.) 

Alaric. (On couch l.) Folks! Really, Ethel ! 
(Holds his knee in his hands, lifting his leg) 
Mrs. Chichester. (Severely, to Peg) Don't 



44 PEG O' MY HEART 

sprawl like that. Sit up. (Peg does so) Put your 
feet together. (Peg puts one leg over the other) 
No, no. Look at your cousin. 

Peg. (Uncrosses her legs) Yes, look at him. 
He had his feet in the air, he had. 

Mrs. Chichester. I mean your cousin, Ethel. 

Peg. (Sits up demurely, then look at Ethel and 
turns back to Mrs. Chichester) Her? Oh I 
Ethel's my cousin? 

Mrs. Chichester. She is. 

Alaric. (Rises and goes up level with her) 
Yes. And I am, too. Cousin Alaric. 

Peg. (Looks at him a second and laughs, then 
looks very curiously at Ethel, looks all round 
again, turns to Mrs. Chichester) Where's her 
husband gone to? (Looking round again) 

(Ethel rises.) 

Mrs. Chichester. Husband? 

Peg. Yes. I saw her husband. I've been in this 
room before, you know. I came in that door. She 
was with her husband. 

Alaric. What in Heaven's name does she mean ? 

Peg. She sent me to the kitchen. She and him. 

Alaric. Him? Who in the world ? 

Ethel. Mr. Brent. (Sits) 

Alaric. Brent. Oh! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! 

Peg. Ha! Pla! Ha! (Alaric stops laughing 
suddenly, turns away, and stands by desk l. Pause. 
To Mrs. Chichester) She thought I was a servant 
lookin' for a place, and Eve got my very best hat 
on, too. Mr. Hawkes told me not to say a word. 
He said, " you go up to the lady's house and you 
wait, and when I get there Ell do all the talking. 
That's my business. That's what I get paid for." 

Hawkes. (Comes down level with Peg) Ssh! 
Ssh! Ssh! My time short. You must do every- 



PEG O' MY HEART 45 

thing your aunt tells you. Try to please her in all 
things. On the first day of every month I'll call 
and find out what progress you're making. (Crosses 
front of Peg — to Mrs. Chichester, handing card) 
This is my business address. (Crossing to table) 
Now I must take my leave. (Takes up his hat) 

Peg. (Springing up breathlessly and frightenedly) 
I'm going with ye, too. 

Hawkes. Come, come. 

Peg. (Earnestly — her eyes filling) My father 
mightn't like me to stay here, now that my uncle's 
dead. 

Hawkes. It was your uncle's last wish that you 
should come here. Why, your father will be de- 
lighted at your good fortune. Good-bye, Miss 
O'Conneil. 

Peg. (Shaking hands with Mr. Hawkes) 
Good-bye, Mr. Hawkes. And thank ye for bein' so 
kind to me. 

(Alaric opens door for Hawkes.) 

Hawkes. (Bows to her) Miss Chichester. By 
Jove, I'll just catch the express. (Looking at his 
watch) 

Alaric. Have a cab? 

Hawkes. (Crossing to door l.) No. No lug- 
gage. Like the walk. Good day. (Exit l.) 

Alaric. (Calling off l.) Jarvis, the door. (He 
closes the door and remains by desk l.) 

(Peg wist fully zvatches Hawkes go, then looks de- 
jectedly at the floor, then sits in chair again.) 

Mrs. Chichester. (Severely) Your name is 
Margaret. 

Peg. (Quickly) Peg. (Catches herself) My 
name is Pee. 

o 



46 PEG O' MY HEART 

(Alaric sits at desk.) 

Mrs. Chichester. That is only a corruption. 
We will call you Margaret. 

Peg. {Pause) All right. But don't blame me 
if I'm not there, will ye? (Alaric bangs desk) 
I'm very much afraid indeed that I'll forget to 
answer to the name of Margaret. My name is Peg 
anyway. My father always caks me Peg. It will 
put me in mind of my father. 

Mrs. Chtchester. Kindly leave your father out 
of our conversation. 

Peg. (Rises, to Mrs. Chichester, with a sudden 
flash of anger) Then it's all I will leave him out of. 

Mrs. Chichester. No temper, if you please. 
(Peg sits dozen breathing hard. Pause) You must 
take my daughter as your model in all things. (Peg 
looks at Ethel, half inclined to cry, half to laugh) 
Everything she does you must try to imitate. You 
cannot have a better example. Mould yourself on 
her. 

Peg. (Tries to sit as Ethel is sitting, to pose as 
she does, to arrange her dress as she has hers ar- 
ranged. Imitates her) " Please don't. It's so hot 
this mornin'." (Laughs) 

Mrs. Chichester. What do you mean? 

Peg. We have a little joke together, haven't we? 
(To Ethel) 

Mrs. Chichester. (Rising, to Peg) You have 
a great deal to learn. 

Peg. Yes, aunt. 

Mrs. Chichester. Until some decent c!othes can 
be procured for you we'll find some from my 
daughter's wardrobe. 

Peg. Sure, I've got a beautiful silk dress that I 
wear to Mass on Sunday. It's a very pretty silk 
dress. I couldn't wear it on the ship because it 
would get all wet. I can't wear my Sunday clothes, 



PEG O' MY HEART 47 

ma'am. I must wear my traveling suit when I'm 
traveling. 

Mrs. Chtchester. (Rising — checking Peg) 
That will do. Ring, Alaric. (Alaric crosses bach 
of I able to bell and rings. To Peg) You mu^t 
try to realize that you have an opportunity very few 
girls in your position are ever given. I only hope 
vou will try to repay our interest and your late 
uncle's wishes by obedience, good conduct, and hard 
study. 

Peg. {Meekly, her eyes twinkling with mischief) 
My dress has lace on it, too, you know. (Mrs. 
Chichester turns away) Well, I don't want you 
to think my father doesn't buy me any pretty clothes. 
I have some grand dresses. 

(Enter Jarvis l.) 

Mrs. Chichester. Jarvis, tell Bennett to show 
my niece to the Mauve Room and to attend her. 

Jarvis. Yes, ma'am. (Goes to top of stairs) 

Mrs. Chichester. Now go with him. 

Peg. Of course, I know this suit is very old, and 
should be mended and pressed. I wish Ed worn 
my silk dress. (Rises and crosses to l. c. to Ethel) 
Eve got two silk dresses, Miss. Eve got a blue one 
and a pink one. The blue one is my going-to-Mass 
dress. It's dark blue. And the pink one is my 
party dress. It has a black velvet sash on it — a wide 
black velvet sash. (Ethel looks away) It's very 
black, too, it is. (Ethel takes no notice. Peg sees 
dog) Hello ! I've got two silk dresses. Did you 
know that? (As dog takes no notice Peg goes to 
table l. c.) Devil a bit he cares about dresses. 
(// dog is friendly, and goes to Peg, she takes him 
up saying) Look at that now. He's very friendly. 
Dogs like me, dogs do. (Puts down dog) You'll 
have to get over that, voting fellow. Nice and 



4 8 PEG O' MY HEART 

friendly. I wonder where he picked it up. (If dog 
jumps up and down, make him do it two or three 
times, and say) I'm a dog-trainer, I am. He should 
be on wheels. 

Mrs. Chichester. Now go with him. 

Peg. Yes, ma'am. (Turns to Jarvis and lauglis, 
then looks at Ethel, then at Mrs. Chichester, 
then at Alaric) Of course I'll try to do everything 
you want me to do, but I'm very far away, and it's 
all so strange, and I do miss my father so much — ■ 
(Checks herself) 

Mrs. Chichester. (Coldly) Go with him. 

Peg. Yes, ma'am. (Bobs, then shrinks into her- 
self, creeps quietly upstairs l., looks at Jarvis, who 
does not move) He's not going. (Or, He doesn't 
know where to go. Business with Jarvis. They 
exit) 

(Alaric, Ethel a . Chichester look at ecu , 7 : 

other.) 

Alaric. (r. to Ethel) Eh? 

Ethel. (On bench l.) Awful! 

Mrs. Chichester, (c.) Terrible! 

Alaric. (Leaning on chair R.) It's our unlucky 
day. 

Mrs. Chichester, (c.) One thing is absolutely 
necessary. She must be kept away from everyone 
for the present. 

Alaric. I should say so. Good Lord ! Jerry ! 
He mustn't see her. He'd laugh his head off at the 
idea of me having a relation like that. He'll 
probably run in for lunch. 

(Ethel rises, picks tip dog, and crosses up to foot 
of stairs.) 

Mrs. Chichester. She must remain in her room 



PEG O' MY HEART 49 

until he's gone. Meanwhile I'll go into town and 
order some things for her and see about tutors. 
She's got to be taught, and at once. (Crosses to 
desk and picks up list) 

Ethel. But why put up with it at all, Mother? 

Mrs. Chichester. (Turns to Ethel) One 
thousand pounds a year. That's the reason. And 
rather than you should have to make any sacrifice, 
dear, I'd put up with worse than that. 

Ethel. Yes, I believe you would. I wouldn't. 
(Up the stairs) 

Alaric. Where are you off to, Ethel ? 

Ethel. (At head of stairs) To make up my 
mind, if I can, about something. The coming of 
Peg may do it for me. (Exit l. upstairs) 

Alaric. I'll go with you, Mater, as far as the 
Station Road, and see if I can head Jerry off. 
(Looks at watch) His train is due if it's punctual. 
(Crosses to piano and gets hat) 

(Enter Jarvis l. with fresh flowers.) 

Mrs. Chichester. (To Jarvis) Oh, Jarvis, my 
niece is not to leave her room without my permis- 
sion. 

Jarvis. Yes, ma'am. 

Mrs. Chichester. Come, Alaric. (Goes to door 
l. in front of Jarvis, who holds it open) 

Alaric. (Crossing l.) Any callers, Jarvis, 
we'll be back to lunch. One sharp. (Exit l., fol- 
lowing Mrs. Chichester out. Maid comes down- 
stairs laughing. They exchange looks. The maid 
nods in the direction of upstairs and laughs) 

Jarvis (To maid) Bennett. (Jarvis crosses 
to back of table c, Maid to l. of table) 

Maid. Well? Have you seen her? 

Jarvis. I have. 

Maid. Have you ever seen anything like her? 



5 o PEG O' MY HEART 

Jarvis. Never in my life. Bring me over the 
vase, will you? 

(Maid gets vase from desk l.) 

Maid. What do you make of her? 

(Jarvis goes up to back for vase.) 

Jarvis. (Comes back to table) Every family 
I've served had its family skeleton. That's ours. 

Maid. (Putting flowers in vase) A niece? 

Jarvis. So they say. 

Maid. She hasn't a rag to her back. I'd be 
ashamed to be dressed as she is. You should see the 
one she goes to Mass in. 

Jarvis. I did. All wrapped up in " The Irish 
Times ". And I get ragged for putting her in the 
kitchen. (Goes to back with flowers) Looked too 
good for her. And, what do you think? That dog 
tried to bite me. 

Maid. Where is the dog now? 

Jarvis. Tied up in the stables, worrying the 
horses. 

(Door bangs. Slam l.) 

Maid. They're gone. (Goes to stairs, half way 
up) 

Jarvis. (Comes to chair front of table) Oh, 
Bennett. The niece is not to leave her room with- 
out permission. You'd better tell her. 

Maid. (Going upstairs) Oh, my! These poor 
relations. (Lightning effect.) 

(Jarvis puts chair back to l. of table, picks up 
paper, and crossing l. to desk. Down the path 
comes a man who makes straight for the r. u. 



PEG O' MY HEART 51 

E. He is Jerry, a tall, athletic, breezy, tanned, 
broad-shouldered, energetic young man of 
tzventy-six, magnetic in all he says and does. 
He swings in briskly through arch r. u. e.) 

Jerry. Hullo, Jarvis. How are you? 

Jarvis. Quite nicely, thank you, sir. 

Jerry. (Puts hat on table c.) Where's every- 
one? (Down r.) 

Jarvis. Just drove away, sir. (Comes l. of 
table) 

Jerry. (Sits armchair r.) What time's lunch? 

Jarvis. One, sir. 

Jerry. All well? 

Jarvis. Yes, sir. 

Jerry. Anything new? 

Jarvis. (l. c.) No, sir. (Coughs. Pause. 
Looks up the stairs) Yes, sir. There's a new 
(Slight pause) mare in the stable, sir. Came yes- 
terday. 

Jerry, (r. c.) Miss Ethel's? 

Jarvis. Yes, sir. 

Jerry. I'll go and have a look at her. (Starts up 
R., picking up hat) 

Jarvis. There's a strange dog tied to the door, 
sir. Better walk round him, sir. Snappy. 

Jerry. A new dog, too, eh? Mr. Alaric's? 

Jarvis. No, sir. 

Jerry. Whose is it? 

Jarvis. It just came, sir. 

(Thunder effect.) 

Jerry. What breed? 

Jarvis. It might be anything, sir. 

(Thunder effect.) 

Jerry. I'll look that over, too. (Thunder rolls 



52 PEG O' MY HEART 

in the distance) Hullo, storm's blowing up. If 
Mr. Alaric turns up send him out to me, will you? 
(Goes off) 

{The sound of voices upstairs is heard, and the 
maid appears, followed by Peg. Peg is in her 
going-to-Mass dress. Jarvis arranges books 
and magazines on table c.) 

Maid. The missus said 

Peg. (Down stairs) I'll come out of my room 
if I want to. 

Maid. The missus said you were not to leave 
your room. 

Peg. I want to tell you something, Miss. — It's 
a long time since I had a nurse. {Comes d< 
si airs. Looks at Jarvis) It's a funny job you've 
got, isn't it? (Goes to c. of table) Standing round, 
looking mad all the time. (Goes R.) I'll come down 
in your parlor if I want to. What's a parlor for but 
to keep company in? Well, I'm company and this 
is the parlor, so we're all right. 

Jarvis. (To Maid) Well? 

Maid. (l. c. to Peg) You'll only get me into 
trouble. 

Peg. I wouldn't do that for all the world. I'll 
get all the throuble, Miss. I'll get it now. (Goes to 
door l., opens it, and calls) Ant! Aurnt ! I want 
to see your parlor, and your nurse won't let me. 

Maid. They've all gone out. 

Peg. (Comes back to c., closing door) Well, 
why didn't you tell me they'd all gone out. You let 
me shout my head off, and then tell me they've 
all gone out. You'd better go out too. (They do 
not move) Go on with you. (Jarvis and Maid 
move towards door l., then stop and turn. To 
Jarvis) I don't know whether to laugh or cry at 
him. (Maid laughs. She and Jarvis look at each 



PEG O' MY HEART 53 

o titer in amazement, and exeunt l. Lightning. Ex- 
amines all the things, which are new to her. Laughs. 
Sees Cupid on piano, runs to it, and claps her hands) 
Hullo, Cupid, ye darling. You're the one that causes 
all the mischief in the world, ye devil. {Thunder. 
Sits end of piano-stool and crosses herself) Oh, 
Holy Mary ! (She cowers into herself and prays. 
Jerry appears with Michael in his arms. It has 
grown very dark. Lightning. Peg trembles in 
terror, her back to Jerry) 

Jerry. (Comes down l. to l. c.) Hello! 

Peg. (Turns quickly) Michael! (Thunder. 
Runs to Jerry, snatches dog from him, and runs 
over to l., chattering with fear and looking sus- 
piciously at Jerry. Jerry looks at Peg in astonish- 
ment. Two flashes of lightning) Shut it out! 
Shut it out ! Shut the storm out ! (Jerry draws 
the curtains and comes down to Peg) That's right, 
sir. (Explaining to Jerry) Don't go near the dog. 
You mustn't come near the dog. (Puts dog outside 
door l.) Dogs attract lightning. 

Jerry. (Looking at her in amazement) Does he 
belong to you ? 

Peg. (Nods) What were you doin' with him? 

Jerry. I found him barking at a very high- 
spirited mare. 

Peg. Mare? Where? 

(Lightning.) 

Jerry, (r. of table) Tied to the stable door. 
Peg. The stable? Is that where they put 
Michael? 

(Thunder.) 

Jerry. (Coming down c.) Don't be frightened. 
It's only a summer storm. 



54 PEG O' MY HEART 

Peg. (In awe) Summer or winter, they shrivel 
me up. 

Jerry. Come and look at it. They're beautiful 
in this part of the country. Come and watch it. 
(Going to window at back and lifting curtain) 

(Lightning.) 

Peg. (Sits l. of table) Shut it out! Shut it 
out ! I'll not look at it at all. They say if you look 
y when the lightning comes ye can see the 
Kingdom of Heaven. And the sight of it blinds 
some and kills others accordin' to the state of grace 
ye're in. 

(Lightning.) 

Jerry. (Coining down r. of tabic) You're a 
Catholic ? 

Peg. Of course I'm a Catholic. What else is 
anybody? (Thunder) It does seem to me that He 
is very angry with us for our sins. 

v. With me, perhaps, not with you. 

Peg. What do you mane by that? 

Jerry. You don't know what sin is. 

Peg. And who may you be, to talk to me like 
that ? 

Jerry. My name is Jerry. What's yours? 

Peg. Peg. (Looks round at stairs) That's 
what it is, too, Peg. Jerry, did ye say? 

(Rain.) 

Jerry. Just plain Jerry. And you're Peg? 

Peg. (Nods) Just plain Peg. 

Jerry. (Comes dozen r. of table and sits) I 
don't agree with you. I think you're very charming. 

Peg. (Seated l. of table) You mustn't say 
things like that— with the storm outside. 



PEG O' MY HEART 55 

Jerry. (Coining dozvn r. c.) I mean it. 

Peg. Ye don't. The man that thinks them things 
never says them to your face. My father always 
said to me " Now, Peg, there's one sort of a fellow 
you've got to be very careful of, and that's, the one 
that says flattering things right in your face. " He's 
no good," he says. " He's no good." 

Jerry. Who are you? 

Peg. Did ye ever see such a funny-looking sofa 
as that one ? What do ye do with it ? Do ye sit on 
it, or lie down on it? 

Jerry. Whichever you like. 

Peg. I think it should have a back and some 
handles if it wants to be a sofa. 

Jerry. Who are you? 

Peg. (Rises) And look here. Ive found another 
funny one over here. (Crosses and sits in chair l.) 
Do you know what this is? It's a high-chair. I 
never heard of anybody keeping a high-chair in the 
parlor, did you? And I never heard of anybody 
buying a sofa that looks like a bench. (Crosses to 
him, sliding on carpet) And the carpet — it's a 
slippery carpet. I can make poses on it. (Slides 
back to him, posing. Jerry laughs. Peg slides to 
bench and back again) We have a carpet home. 
But our carpet's not slippery. This must be a cheap 
one. Our carpet has roses on it, big red and yellow 
roses Makes the room more cheerful — more like 
a parlor. 

Jerry. Who in the world are you ? 

Peg. Do you know Alaric? 

Jerry. Yes, of course. 

Peg. I wish I could take him home and show 
him to my father. 

Jerry. Who are you? 

Peg. (l. c.) And the big fellow. Are you 
acquainted with the big fellow who works in this 
house ? 



56 PEG O' MY HEART 

Jerry. The big fellow? I don't think I know 
him. 

Peg. He's all in front of himself. 

Terry, (r. c.) Oh, you mean Jarvis. 

Peg. Jarvis. Do you know all he does to make 
his living — that great big strong fellow? He just 
carries round a little card on a big plate, to tell 
who's coming to the house. (She turns and points 
to the bench again) 

Jerry. Now, who in the world are you? 

Peg. You asked me that before, didn't you? 

Jerry. Yes. 

Peg. Well, I'm my aunt's niece, I am. (Sitting 
on sofa. Pause) 

Jerry. (On sofa, smiling) And who is your 
aunt ? 

Peg. Mrs. Chi — ch — es — es — cher. 

(Lights slowly up to full.) 

Jerry. Who ? 

Peg. Mrs. Chi — ch — es — es. 

Jerry. Mrs. Chichester. 

Peg. That's it. You have to jump it in the 
middle. 

Jerry. Really ? How extraordinary ! 

Peg. Isn't it? You wouldn't expect a fine lady 
like her to have a niece like me, would ye? 

Jerry. That isn't what I meant. 

Peg. Yes, it is. And you mustn't tell untruths 
with the storm outside. 

Jerry. I was thinking that I don't remember 
Alaric ever telling me he had such a charming 
cousin. (By sofa l.) 

Peg. Alaric didn't know I was alive till I dropped 
down from the clouds this morning. 

Jerry. Where did you drop from? 

Peg. New York. 



PEG O' MY HEART 57 

Jerry. Really ? How odd ! 
(Stop rain.) 

Pec. Not at all. It's just the same as any other 
big city. There's nothing odd about New York. 
It's a big place, New York is. 

Jerry. (Hesitatingly, and with pronounced 
English accent) Were you born there? 

Peg. What was that you said? 

Jerry. I said, " Were you born there ? " 

Peg. Yes, I was. 

Jerry. By way of Old Ireland? 

Peg. How did you guess that? 

Jerry. Your slight, but delightful, accent. 

Peg. I've got an accent ? 

Jerry. Yes. 

Peg. Well, I was much too polite to say any- 
thing, but I was thinking you had an accent. 
(Jerry laughs) What are you laughing at? 
Haven't you ever listened to yourself? 

Jerry. No. I can't say I have. 

Peg. Well, you said to me just now " Were you 
born there?" (Imitating him) 

Jerry. Well, how would you say it? 

Peg. I'd say it naturally — " Were you born 
there?" I'd say. "Were you born there?" I 
wouldn't fall over my words. I'd say it straight out 
of my face. I wouldnt make a song-and-dance out 
of it. 

Jerry. (Sits beside her. She moves a little 
away) I see. (Laughing) Hello! (Goes to 
window and pulls curtains open) The storm's 
over. All the anger has gone from the heaven?. 
See! (Draws open the curtains) 

(Lights full up.) 



58 PEG O' MY HEART 

Peg. (Under her breath) Praise be to God for 
that ! 

Jerry. (Coming down r.) Are you going to 
stav here? 

Peg. Mebbe I will. Mebbe I won't. 

Jerry. Did your aunt send for you? 

Peg. No : my uncle Nat. 

Jerry. Nat ? 

Peg. Nathaniel Kingsnorth, God rest his soul 

Jerry. Nathaniel Kingsnorth? 

Peg. (Seated on couch, nods) Sleepin' in his 
grave, poor man ! 

Jerry. (Crosses to back to bench l.) Then 
you're Margaret O'Connell ? 

Peg. I am. How did you know that? 

Jerry. Why, I — (Goes to sit — sees her look) 
May I sit here? 

Peg. That's what you said it was for. Go on 
and sit. 

(Jerry sits back to audience.) 

Jerry. I was with your uncle when he died. 

Peg. Were ye ? 

Jerry. He told me all about you. 

Peg. Did he? I wish the poor man 'd have 
lived. (Pause) I wish he'd sent for me sooner. 
He with all his money and my father with none, 
and me his sister's only child. 

Jerry. W 7 hat does your father do? 

Peg. (On couch l., eagerly) Anything. My 
father can do anything at all. Except make money. 
And when he does make it he can't keep it. He 
doesn't like money. Neither do I. (Pause) I've 
never had much to like. But I've seen others 
around us with plenty, and we've been the happiest 
— that we have. When times were the hardest I 
never heard a word of complaint from my father or 



PEG O' MY HEART 59 

saw a frown on his face. (Pause) Sure, we're 
more like boy and girl than father and daughter. 
(Pause) And I'm sick for the sight of him. 
(Pause) And I'm sure he is for me — for his 
" TJ ep - — » — m y — heart ", as he always calls me. 
(Covers her eyes) I wish I was back home. 

Jerry. (Gently) Don't do that. 

Peg. (Wiping her eyes with a large handker- 
chief, which is fastened — folded — by a safety-pin to 
her dress) I don't cry very often. (Pause) My 
father never made me. I never saw him cry but 
twice in my life. Once when he'd made a little 
money and we had a Mass said for my mother's 
soul and had the most beautiful candles lit on Our 
Lady's altar. And when I left him to come here. 
(Pause) He laughed and joked with me up to the 
last minute, and when the ship swung away from 
the dock he just broke down and sobbed like a little 
child. " My Peg ", he kept sayin', " My little 
Peg ". And I wanted to get off the ship and go to 
him. But we'd started, and I didn't know how to 
swim. (Pause) I cried myself to sleep that night. 
I'm not going to be happy here. (Pause) I only 
came here because my father thought it'd be for my 
good. (Pause) And they won't make a lady out 
of me if I can help it. (Pause) Ye can't make a 
silk purse out of a sow's ear. That's what mv 
father said. And that's what I am — a sow's ear. 

Jerry. (Rises. Crosses c, gently) I don't 
agree with you. 

Peg. (Wiping her eyes) I don't care whether 
ye do or not. I'm — a sow's ear, I am. 

Jerry, ,(c.) When the strangeness wears off 
you'll be very happy here. 

Peg. What makes ye think that? 

Jerry. Because you'll know that you are pleas- 
ing your father. 

Peg. But I'm all alone 



6o PEG O' MY HEART 

Terry. You're among friends. 

Peg. (Shakes her head) They're ashamed of 
me. 

Jerry, (c.) Oh, no. 

Peg. They are. They sent me to the kitchen 
when I first came here. And they put Michael to 
sleep in the stable. I want to tell you Michael's 
not used to sleeping in a stable. We never had any. 
That was a quick joke, wasn't it? Michael has al- 
ways slept with my father ever since he was a 
little bit of a puppy. (Crosses him to r. c.) 
Michael, I mean. I thought you might think I 
meant my father. 

Jerry. When they really get to know you they'll 
be just as proud of you as your father is — as I'd be. 

Peg. (To corner of piano, looks at him, then 
picks up music) You'd be? (Pause) Why 
should you be proud (Pause) of me? 

Jerry. I'd be more than proud if you'd look on 
me as a friend. 

Peg. But I don't know who ye are at all. do I ? 

Jerry. (Sitting on table r.) Oh, I can give you 
some very good references. For instance, I was 
up at the same college as your cousin Alaric. 

Peg. (Sits on piano-stool) Were ye? Wei!, I 
would mention that to very few people. 

Jerry. Don't you want me to be your friend? 

Peg. I don't know. I'm like the widow's pig 
that was put in a rale bed to sleep in. The pig 
neither wanted it nor it didn't want it. It had 
done without it all its life, and it wasn't cryin' its 
heart out for the loss of somethin' it had never 
had and didn't miss. (Jerry laughs heartily) I 
want to tell you that's one thing that's in vour favor. 

Jerry. What is? 

Peg. The laughter's not dead in ye as it is in 
everybody else in this house. (Looking at him 
with more interest, puts down music . He laughs 



PEG O' MY HEART 61 

three times. Peg laughs with him, then goes to 
him) Say, who are ye at all? 

Jerry. No one in particular. 

Peg. Well, I can see that. I mean, what do ye 
do? 

Jerry. (On table r. c.) Everything a little 
and nothing really well. I was a soldier for a 
while, thenl took a splash at doctoring; read law; 
civil-engineered in South America for a year — now 
I'm farming. 

Peg. (r. by table) Ye're a farmer? 

Jerry. Yes. 

Peg. (Laughs) Where's your whiskers? 

Jerry. I'm a new farmer. (Laughs) To sum 
up my career, I can do a whole lot of things fairly 
well, and none of them well enough to brag aboui. 

Peg. Like my father, that is. 

Jerry. You flatter me. 

Peg. I know I flatter you. There's not a man 
in the whole world like my father. 

Jerry. No. Of course not. 

Peg. No. Not one man in the whole world, there 
isn't. (Pause, she goes round to back of table c. 
Jerry gets r. of table) But he says he's a rolling 
stone, and they don't amount to much in a hard- 
hearted world that's all for making dollars. 

Jerry. Your father's right. Money is the 
standard to-day, and we're all valued by it. 

Peg. Yes. And he's got none. (Pause) But 
he has got me. (Pause. Looks ruefully all round, 
then gets up resolutely) Em goin' right back to 
him now. (Crosses to foot of stairs) 

Jerry. No, no. (Round back of table to newel 
post) 

Peg. (On third step) I must. Sure, it's easier 
to suffer the want of food than the want of love. 
(Pause. Imitates her father, banging newel post. 
Jerry starts back) "And that's what the Irish 



62 PEG O' MY HEART 

are doing all over the world. They're driven from 
their own country. They're made wanders on the 
face of the earth, and nothin' they ever earn'll 
make up to them for the separation from their 
homes and from their loved ones." (Jerry laughs) 
Do you know what that is? 

Jerry. (Shakes his head) I haven't the slightest 
idea. 

Peg. That's one of my father's speeches. 

Jerry. One of his speeches? 

Peg. My father makes grand speeches. 

Jerry. Does he? 

Peg. He makes them in the cause of Ireland. 

Jerry. (Smiles. Conies to newel post) In the 
cause of Ireland? 

Peg. Yes. My mother died when I was a little 
. and my father brought me back to Ireland. 
I lived there all my life till two months ago, when 
he had to go back to New York, and they sent for 
me to come here. I went all through Ireland with 
my father on his lecture tours. We had a cart. We 
traveled from place to place in the cart. He made 
his speeches from the tail of it, and we lived in the 
middle. My father practised all of his speeches on 
me first. 

Jerry. Oh, did he? 

Peg. I know fifty of them by heart. 

Jerry. Fifty? 

Peg. Yes. I'm going to recite them all to Mrs. 
Chichester. She'll be very pleased. Nice old lady, 
she is. 

Jerry. Very nice. 

Peg. Full of fun. (Thev both laugh) I tell vou 
I'm not used to sour faces. My father's full of 
jokes. I'm lost without my father. I get very 
lonesome without him. I'm going back to him, too. 
(She goes upstairs) 

Jerry. (Follozving her and leaning over balus- 



PEG O' MY HEART 63 

trade) Wait! Think! Just give us one month's 
trial. One month. It's very little out of your life, 
and I promise you your father will not suffer by it, 
except in losing you for that one little month. 
(Pause) Will you? Please do. Just a month? 

Peg. {Coming dozen to bottom step) Why do 
you want me to stay here? 

Jerry. Because — because your uncle was my 
friend. It was his last wish to do something for 
you. (Pause) Will you? Just a month? 

Peg. Not any more than a month. 

Jerry. Not unless you wish it. 

Peg. All right. I don't suppose I'll mind a 
month. It's going to seem like a lifetime in this 
place. (Coming dozvn l.) 

Jerry. I'm glad. (Down into l. c., level with 
her) 

Peg. Glad it's going to seem like a lifetime? 

Jerry. (Smiling) No. That you're going to 
stay. 

Peg. (Crossing r. to r. c.) That's a comfort 
anyway. Some one in the house'll be pleased at 
my stayin' — (Pause) 

Jerry. (Follon'ing her) I am — immensely. 

Peg. Yes. I heard you say it. 

Jerry. (Nearer to her) And will you look on 
me as your friend? 

Peg. (Looks at him quickly, then moves away 
R.) I don't know who you are, do I ? 

Jerry. (Following) Is it so difficult? 

Peg. I don't know at all. I don't know whether 
it's difficult or not till I thry it. (Goes away r.) 

Jerry. (Following Peg) Try. 

Peg. I don't understand you. 

Jerry. Yet I'm very simple. 

Peg. Devil doubt that. (Crosses to r. corner, 
sits in high chair, sees he is quite near her) Where 



6_j PEG O' MY HEART 

do you think you'll go now? (Jerry holds out his 
hand) What's that "for? 

Jerry. To our friendship. 

Peg. I never met anybody like you in all my life 
before. (Looks at his hand) 

Jerry. Shake hands on it. 

Peg. I don't think it's necessary. 

Jerry. Do. 

Peg. I don't shake hands with every Tom, Dick 
and Harry I meet. 

Jerry. Come. 

Peg. Queer fish, you are. (Gives her hand) 

Jerry. (Holds it) Friends? 

Peg. Not yet. Not so fast. 

Jerry. I'll wager we will be. 

Peg. Don't put much on it. Ye might lose. 

Jerry. I'll stake my life on it. 

Peg. Ye don't value it much, then. 

Jerry. More than I did. (Peg looks at him) 
May you be very happy here, Peg. 

(Door slam.) 

Peg. (Crosses and runs upstairs. Jerry watches 
tier in amazement) Don't tell anybody you saw me 
down in this room. (She turns to go, meets Ethel 
at top of stairs, turns comes downstairs, meets Mrs. 
Chichester and Alaric entering door l. She 
turns completely round, and finally sits at bottom of 
stairs) 

(Mrs. Chichester goes c. to Jerry, who shakes 
hands with her.) 

Mrs. Chichester. So sorry we were out. 
You'll stay to lunch? 

Jerry. It's what I came for. (Mrs. Chichester 
crosses to r. Jerry shakes hands with Ethel, who 



PEG O' MY HEART 65 

also goes dozvn r. to her mother, telling her that 
Peg is on the stairs) 

Alaric. (Crosses to l. c. SI one lies over to 
Jerry, who meets him l. c.) What ho! Jerry! 

Jerry. (Slips his arm through Alaric's and 
takes him to windows, seeing Peg on stairs in pass- 
ing) I say, Al, your cousin's adorable. 

Alaric. What ? 

Jerry. Simply adorable. 

(They talk by windows.) 
Alaric. Oh, I say, adorable! 

(Ethel points out Peg to Mrs. Chichester, then 
sits on piano-stool.) 

Mrs. Chichester . Margaret ! Margaret ! 
(Mrs. Chichester looks round at newel post and 
Peg comes out and goes to Mrs. Chichester) 
Who gave you permission to- come in here? 

Peg. No one at all. I just walked in. 

Mrs. Chichester. Go to your room and stay 
there until I give you leave to come out. 

Peg. (Passionately) Sure, if this house is goin .; 
to be a prison I'm going back to my father. 

(Lunch gong l.) 

Alaric. (Coming down r. c.) There we are! 
Lunch, everyone ! 

Jerry. (Coming dozvn l. c.) At last! I'm 
starving ! 

Peg. So am I. I haven't had a bite since six. 

Jerry. (Offering Peg his arm) Allow me. 

Mrs. Chichester. My niece is tired after her 
journey. She will lunch in her room. 

Peg. I'm not a bit tired, and I'd rather have 
lunch down here with Mr. Jerry. 



66 PEG O' MY HEART 

Alaric. Oh, I say, — Mr. Jerry ! 

Jerry. And so you shall have lunch with Mr. 
Jerry. Come along — let us lead the way. (Goes 
off with Peg on his arm, Peg looking back impishly 
at the others and then smiling up at Jerry) 

Peg. I'm not so sure about that wager of yours. 
I think your life is safe. I want to tell ye ye saved 
my life. I'm so hungry my soul is hanging by a 
thread. 

Slozv curtain 

Irs. Chichester. She must be taught, and at 



once 



(ACT I plays sixty-two minutes.) 



PEG O' MY HEART 67 



ACT II 

" THE REBELLION OF PEG ". 

Scene: A month afterwards. A July evening. 

At rise of curtain Peg is discovered lying on 
couch l. c. intently reading a large, hand- 
somely-bound volume. Jarvis noiselessly 
shows in Brent, who is in automobile garb — 
light overcoat on, cap in hand — and exits. 
Brent puts coat and cap on window-seat, moves 
dozvn l. c. near couch, sees Peg, and looks 
down at her as he takes gloves off. He bangs 
glove on hand. Peg looks up, meeting Brent's 
admiring gaze. 

Brent. {Comes dozvn r. of couch) It must be 
absorbing. (Peg shuts book and moves into sitting 
position. She is then seen to be charmingly gowned, 
her hair dressed a la mode) What's the book? 
(Peg puts her hands over the title and looks at him 
distrustfully. Brent walks round couch, sits be- 
side Peg, smiling appreciatingly at her. Peg jumps 
up and stands defiantly, her eyes flashing angrily) 
You mustn't be angry, child. (Points to book) 
What is it? Something forbidden ? (Leering) 
Show me. (Holds out his hand. Peg smacks it. 
Peg crosses r. to r. corner of piano, puts book under 
piano cover, and faces Brent) Aha! A hiding- 
place ! Now you make me really curious. Let me 
look at it. (Goes to her. Peg stands at bay, ready 
to defend the identity of the book) I love spirit. 
Why, what a wonderful change in a month ! You'd 
most certainly not be sent to the kitchen now. 
(Pause. He sits on arm of armchair r.) Do you 



63 PEG O' MY HEART 

know you've grown into a most attractive young 
woman? (Peg ejaculates) Oh, you are really de- 
lightful when you're angry. And you are angry, 
aren't you? And with me. I'm sorry I offended you. 
Let us kiss and be friends. (He takes her left hand, 
and as he bends near her she gives him a resounding 
box on the ears. Brent gives a muffled ejaculation 
and tries to take her in Jiis arms. Enter Ethel l. 
Peg, panting with anger, glares at him, then rushes 
straight out through arch R. u. E. Brent fob 
her up to r. u. e., swings round, sees Ethel, stops, 
<iocs to her with outstretched hand, and comes 
'. r. to front of table) Why, my dear Ethel! 
hel. (Ignoring his hand, comes to c.) Why 
did she run away? 

Brent. (To c, smiling easily and confidently) 
I'd surprised one of her secrets and she flew into a 
temper. Did you sec her strike me ? 

Ethel. Secrets ? 

Brent. Yes. Here we are. (Goes to r. of 
piano, turns up piano carer, takes out book, opens 
it, reads) " The Love Stories of the World " — 
" To Peg from Jerry ". Jerry ! Oho ! No wonder 
she didn't want me to see it. (Puts it back 
covers it up) Jerry, eh? (Goes to Ethel) So 
that's how the land lies! Romantic little child! 
(To Ethel) Now, Ethel, I 

Ethel. (Looking steadily at him) Whv don't 
you go after her? (Nodding in the direction in 
which Peg ran) 

Brent. Ethel ! 

Ethel. She's new and has all the virtues. 

Brent. I assure you 

Ethel. You needn't. If there's one thing I'm 
convinced of it's your assurance. (Grosses r.) 

Brent. Really, Ethel 

Ethel. (Going r., and sitting in armchair) 
Were you (( carried away" again? 



PEG O' MY HEART 69 

Brent. Do you think — ? 

Etpiel. Yes. I do. 

Brent. (Hunting for an explanation) I— I 
don't know what to say. 

Ethel. Better say nothing. 

Brent, (c.) Surely you're not jealous — of a— 
child? . 1 

Ethel. (Slowly) No. I dont think its 
jealousy. 

Brent. Then what is it? 

Ethel. (Looking scornfully at him) Disgust. 
(Shrugs her shoulders contemptuously) Nov/ I 
understand why the kitchen is sometimes the rival 
of the drawing-room. The love of change. ^_ 

Brent. (Crosses l. c, and turns back) This is 
not worthy of you. 

Ethel. That is what rankles. It isn't. You're 
not. 

Brent. (Coming back) Ethel 

Ethel. (Seated r. c.) If that ever happened 
again I should have to — amputate you. (Pause. 
He turns up to window-seat for coat) Chris! 
(He turns) Come here! (Brent comes back to 
her. She smiles) My nerves have been tried this 
past month. 

Brent. Poor Ethel ! (Pause) 

Ethel. Put a mongrel into a kennel of thorough- 
breds and they'll either destroy the intruder or be 
in a condition of unsettled, irritating intolerance. 
(Pause) That's exactly my condition. (Pause) 
I'm unsettled, irritable, intolerant. 

Brent. (Crosses to Ethel) Then I came in 
time. 

Ethel. (Smiles as she looks straight through 
him) So did I. Didn't I ? 

Brent. Don't. Please don't. (Crosses l., turns 
away ) 

Ethel. Very well. I won't. (Pause. He tun.: 



70 



PEG O' MY HEART 



to her again) I'm sorry, Chris. (Pause. She looks 
up at him) A month ago it wouldn't have mattered. 
Just now — it did. I'd rather looked forward to see- 
ing you. It's been horrible here. 

Brent. It's been a month of misery for me too. 
But I'm going away — out of it — to-morrow. 

Ethel. Are you? Where? 

Brent. (Taking stage to l. c.) Norway — 
Moscow — Siberia. 

Ethel. Oh! The cold places ! Going alone? 

Brent. (Crosses r., bending over Ethel) Yes. 
Unless someone goes with me. 

Ethel. Naturally. 

Brent. If 7 /// you go? 

Ethel. (Rises) I wish I'd been here when you 
called — instead of that brat. 

Brent. (Turns azvay to table) Good God 

Ethel. One doesn't mind an equal so much — 
but that 

Brent. (Crossing to l.) This is unbearable. 

Ethel. (Crosses to c.) Your wife all over 
again, ch ? 

Brent. (Coming down l. of table to Ethel c.) 
No. I place you far above her — above all petty 
suspicion and carping narrowness. I value you as 
a woman of understanding. 

Ethel. (Meaningly) I am. From what you've 
told me about your wife, she is, too. 

Brent. (Turns czvay distractedly) Don't treat 
me like this. 

Ethel. What shall I do? (He looks at her) 
Apologize? That's odd. I've been waiting for 
yours. (Crosses to piano) 

Brent. Oh! (Moves restlessly away to up l. 
c.) 

(Alaric hurries in from l.) 

Alaric. Hello! H'areye? {Shakes hands with 

Brent) Disturbing vou ? 



PEG O' MY HEART 71 

Brent. Not at all — no. 

Alaric. The angel wife all right? 

Brent. Very well, thank you. 

Alaric. And the darling child ? 

Brent. Quite well, thank you. 

Alaric. Splendid! (Crossing to Ethel at back 
of table) Seen Margaret? 

Ethel. (Nods in direction of garden) Out 
there. 

Alaric. Mater wants her. Got to have a family 
meetin' about her. Mater'll be here in a minute. 
(To Brent) Just the family! (Hurries out 
through r. u. e.) 

Brent. (Hurries to Ethel at back of table) 
I'm at the hotel. I'll be there until morning. Send 
me a message. Will you? I'll wait up all night 
for one. Will you? 

Ethel. (At piano r.) Perhaps, Chris. 

Brent. Oh, I'm sorry if anything I've said or 
done has hurt you. 

Ethel. Don't say any more. 

Brent. Oh, if you only — (Ethel checks him as 
door l. opens and Mrs. Chichester enters. Maid 
comes downstairs at same moment, opening r. cur- 
tain ) 

Mrs. Chichester. How do you do? (At l. c, 
bowing to Brent. Turns to maid. Ethel sits R. 
c.) When did you see my niece last? 

(Brent to windozv-seat, gets cap and coat.) 

Maid. Not this hour, ma'am. 

Mrs. Chichester. Tell Jarvis to search the 
gardens. 

Maid. Yes, ma'am. (Starts towards arch r.) 

•Mrs. Chichester. (Comes to l. of table c.) 
Tell Jarvis— (Maid stops)— to search the stables. 

Maid. Yes, ma'am. (Starts r. again) 



72 PEG O' MY HEART 

Mrs. Chichester. Tell Jarvis — (Maid stops) 
— to look up and down the road. 

Maid. Yes, ma'am. (Exit arch r. u. e. Brent 
comes down l. of Mrs. Chichester) 

Mrs. Chichester. (Turning to Brent) For- 
give me, Mr. Brent. I'm sorry. 

Brent. Not at all. I'm just leaving. (Crosses 
l., bows to her, shakes hands) 

Mrs. Chichester. Oh, you needn't 

Brent. (Going towards door l.) I'm going 
abroad to-morrow. I just called to say good-bye. 

Mrs. Chichester, 'i trust you and Mrs. Brent 
\vi:l have a very pleasant trip. 

Brent. Thank you. (Passes out l.) 

(Alaric re-enters through r. u. e. Ethel sits 
armchair r.) 

Alaric. Not a sign of Margaret anywhere. 
(Comes down r., fanning himself with his liand- 
kerchief) 

s. Chichester. This cannot go on. (Sits L. 
of table) 

Alaric. (Sits R. of table) I should think not, 
indeed. 

Mrs. Chichester. Mr. Hawkes writes that he 
will call to-morrow for his first report. (Seated l. 
of table) What am I to tell him? 

Alaric. (r. of table) What will you? (Jarvis 
and Maid enter R. u. E., and cross slowly to l.) 

Mrs. Chichester. Am I to tell him that every 
tutor I've engaged for her has resigned? That no 
maid will stay with her ? Am I to tell him that ? 

Alaric. Serve her jolly-well right if you did. 
Eh. Ethel? 

Ethel. It would. 

Maid. I've searched everywhere, ma'am. Not a 
sign of her. 



PEG O' MY HEART 73 

Jarvis. Not in the stables nor up or down the 
road. And the dog's missing. 

Ethel. Pet ? 

Jarvis. No. not Pet, Miss. She's gnawing a 
bone on the lawn. The other— Michael. 

Mrs. Chichester. That will do. (Exeunt 
Jarvis and Maid l. i e.) Where is she? 

Alaric. Heavens knows. 

Mrs. Chichester. If only I could throw the 
whole business up ! 

Alaric. Wish to goodness we could. But the 
monthly cheque will be useful to-morrow, Mater. 
Let's give the little beggar another month of it. Let 
her off lightly this time, and the moment the lawyer- 
bird's gone read her the Riot Act. Pull her up with 
a jerk. Ride her on the curb, and no rot. 

(Suddenly through the open windows comes the 
sound of two dogs barking furiously and 
snapping at each other.) 

(DOG FIGHT) 

Ethel. Pet ! (Jumps up and hurries out through 
arch r. u. e. Alaric and Mrs. Chichester go to 
windows c.) 

Mrs. Cpiichester. Margaret ! 

Alaric. (Up at window c, lifting the curtain) 
And the mongrel! She's urging him on. The 
terrier's got Pet now, (Calling) Fight him, old 
<rirl! Maul him! Whoa there! Pet's down. 
There's Ethel on the scene. 

Mrs. Chichester. Go and separate them. 

Alaric. Not me. I'll talk to 'em. Stop it ! Stoo 
it now, when I tell you! Ethel can handle 'em. I 
hate the little brutes — all hair and teeth. (Coming 
down r.) Can't understand women coddling those 
little masses of snarling, smelly wool. 



74 PEG O' MY HEART 

(The sound stops. Ethel enters, flushed and 
angry, soothing the ruffled Pet. She goes down 
to couch. A little later Peg enters with the 
victorious Michael in her arms. SJie has a 
roguish look of triumph in her eyes. She, too, 
is flushed and excited, and follows Ethel to 
bench.) 

Mrs. Chichester. (Angrily) Take that animal 
out of the room. 

Peg. (Goes over to r.) Come on, Ethel. Let 
him finish it. 

rs. Chichester. Take that dog out of the 

room! (Peg turns and zvalks out into the garden. 

Mrs. Chichester conies to front of table and lets 

iet some distance away) Margaret ! Margaret ! 

(Pause) Come here! Do you hear me? 

Peg. (Outside. Without moving) Can Michael 
come in? 

Mrs. Chichester. You come in, and leave that 
brute outside. (Pause) At once! (Gomes down 
c) 

Peg. (Leaves Michael outside arch r. u. e., and 
comes down to Mrs. Chichester) I think it's the 
silliest thing, this class-distinction between dogs. 

Mrs. Chichester. Where have you been? 

(Alaric comes down to armchair r.) 

Peg. (Down r.) Down to the seashore. 

Mrs. Chichester. And why? 

Peg. I wanted to give Michael a swim. The tide 
was high, but he wouldn't go in. 

Mrs. Chichester. You took Michael down to 
the seashore in that dress ? 

(Peg looks down at it.) 
Peg. No. He wasn't in this dress. 



PEG O' MY HEART 75 

Mrs. Chichester. Look at your hair, all over 
your eyes. What do you think will become of you? 

Peg. I have hopes of Heaven, like all the 
Catholics. 

Mrs. Chichester. (Despairingly, to Alaric and 
Ethel) I give it up. (Crosses to couch and sits 
beside Ethel) 

Alaric. I should say so. 

Mrs. Chichester. Is it that you don't wish to 
improve? Is it that? 

Peg. I'll tell you what / think it is. I think — 
(Gets chair l. of table, brings it down, and sits c.) 
■ — there's a devil in me some place, and every now 
and again he pops out. 

Mrs. Chichester. A devil? 

Pvc. (Demurely) Yes, Aunt. 

Mrs. Chichester. How dare you use such a 
word to me? 

Peg. I didn't. I used it to myself. I don't know 
whether there's a devil in you cr not. I don't think 
there is. 

Mrs. Chichester. To-morrow Mr. Hawkes will 
call for his first report on you. (Peg laughs sud- 
denly, then checks herself) And why did you do 
that ? 

Peg. I just had a picture of what you're goin' 
to tell him. 

Mrs. Chichester. Your manners are abomin- 
able. 

Peg. Yes, Aunt. 

Mrs. Chichester. What am I to tell Mr. 
Hawkes ? 

Peg. I'd tell him the truth and shame the— 
devil. I would. 

Mrs. Chichester. Oh! Don't you wish to re- 
main here? 

Peg. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't. 



7 6 PEG O' MY HEART 

Mrs. Chichester. Don't I do everything pos- 
sible for you? 

Peg. Yes. You do everything possible to me — 

Mrs. Chichester. What? 

Peg. For me. (Singing) For me. 

Mrs. Chichester. Why do you constantly dis- 
obey me? 

Peg. I suppose it's the original sin in me. 

Mrs. Chichester. What? 

Alaric. (Sitting on armchair R.) Oh, I say, you 
know ! Original sin ! Ha ! Ha ! Pla ! 

Peg. Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! I never know whether 
he's laughing or coughing. (Catches Mrs. Chi- 
chester's eye, and stops) Whenever I did any- 
thin' wilful or disturbin' at home my father always 
said to me " Now, Peg, that is the original sin in ye, 
and ye're not to be punished, because ye can't help 
it." And then he used to punish himself for what 
I did, and when I saw how it hurt him I wouldn't 
do it any more. Now, I think that was a grand way 
to raise a daughter, and I did have an idea that an 
aunt might be very successful if she tried to raise a 
niece that way. (Mrs. Chichester looks at her) 
Ye see, if you were to punish yourself for what I 
do — (Mrs. Chichester stares at her) — I might be 
sorry. But, then, of course I might not, and that 
would be very hard on you. Ye see, I can't tell 
about myself. 

Mrs. Chichester. Your father must have been 
a very bad influence on you. 

Peg. (Hotly) My father's the best man in all 
the world. 

Mrs. Chichester. Margaret ! 

Peg. (Sullenly, looking down) There was never 
a man on earth as good as my father. If more 
girls had fathers born to them as good as my father 
there'd be less trouble in this world. 



PEG O' MY HEART 77 

Mrs. Chichester. Haven't I told you never to 
contradict me? 

Peg. Well, you contradict me all the time. It's 
not fair if it doesn't work both ways. 

Mrs. Chichester. Margaret! 

Peg. I want to tell you I'd have a much sweeter 
disposition if you wouldn't talk against my father. 

Mrs. Chichester. Really, Margaret! 

Peg. I don't mind scolding — that has no effect on 
me whatever. 

Mrs. Chichester. Margaret! 

Peg. I'm surprised at you, I am. You know I'm 
mad about my father, and you should respect my 
feelings about him. I respect your feelings about 
Alaric, don't I ? 

(Alaric rises and goes round back to l.) 

Mrs. Chichester. Stop! 

Peg. I'd like to know who would have fed and 
clothed me all these years 

Mrs. Chichester. Stop ! 

Peg. It makes me furious when you talk against 
my father. 

Mrs. Chichester. Stop ! (Peg opens her mouth 
to begin again) Stop! 

Peg. All right. I've stopped. (Rises, puts chair 
back, and goes round to r. of table c.) I'll wipe out 
the whole of the Chichester family the next time you 
talk against my father, and that's my last word. 

Mrs. Chichester. (To Ethel) Oh, it's hope- 
less. (Rises to c.) If I consent to take charge of 
you for another period will you promise me you 
will do your best to show some advancement during 
the next month? 

Peg. (c, level with her) Yes, Aunt. 

Mrs. Chichester, (c.) And if I get fresh 
tutors for you will you try to keep them? 



78 PEG O' MY HEART 

Peg. Yes. I will. 

Mrs. Chichester. (To Alaric, who has gone 
round back during foregoing, and is now seated on 
bench bx Ethel) What do you think? 

Alaric. We might risk it, eh, Ethel? 

Ethel. Don't ask me. 

s. Chichester. Very well. Begin now. Get 
your books. 

(Jarvis enters.) 

Peg. Yes, Aunt. {Hurriedly gets three books 
from piano and conies back to table c.) 

.Mrs. Chichester. (To Jarvis) Well? 
vis. A letter for Miss Chichester. (Hi 
it to Ethel) By hand, Miss. No answer. (Ethel 
takes it unconcernedly, opens it and reads. Jarvis 
towards door l. Peg slams book) 
rs. Chichester. (Starts) Oh! 

Peg. I beg ver pardon. It shlipped out of nry 
fist. 

Ms. Chichester. Fist! 
G. (Calls) Jarvis! Michael's outside. He's 
had. a fight. I'll be very much obliged if you'll put 
him to bed for me, please. 

Jarvis. Yes, Miss. (Exit through r. u. e.) 

Peg. That's a nice boy, jarvis. 

Alaric. Boy, Ethel! 

Mrs. Chichester, (l. of table c.) Who's that 
from, Ethel? 

Ethel. (Rising) Mr. Brent. 

(Peg listens.) 

Alaric What on earth does he want? 
Ethel. He wants me to do something for him. 
Alaric. Do something? 



PEG O' MY HEART 79 

Ethel. Yes. I'll answer it here. (Crosses over 
to writing-desk, sits, and writes) 

Mrs. Chichester. (To Peg) Margaret! Now, 
study for a little while. And do try to keep your 
hair out of your eves. (Business with curls) 
Yes, Aunt. 

Mrs. Chichester. Come, Alaric. (Alaric rises 
and crosses to l. of table. Mrs. Chichester goes 
out L.) 

Alaric. (To Peg) Original sin, eh? That's a 
good one ! 

Peg. I knew you would be the one to think it was 
good. 

Alaric. Study all the pretty maps. (Leans over 
her) What's the population of Turkey? 

Peg. There's going to be one less in England 
one day. (Picks up book, grimaces, and looks 
threateningly at him) 

Alaric. (Starts back) Little devil ! 

Peg. He's tuggin' at me now. The little devil 
hates knowledge. He always tries to stop me gettin' 
any of it. 

Alaric. (Laughs) Ha! Ha! (Glances across 
at Ethel) Study your cousin. Model yourself 
on Ethel. Imitate her, eh, what? (Hurries to 
door. Peg runs after him with book. Exit l. as 
she almost throws book at him. As Peg turns back 
from door he pops his head back into room, and 
laughs) Little devil! (Peg goes for him again, 
but he shuts door again in time, and escapes) 

(Peg goes to table and sits watching Ethel, who 
finishes her note, takes cigarette, and lights 
match. Imitating Ethel, Peg puts down her 
book, takes cigarette and lights match. Ethel 
sees Peg imitating her, gives impatient ejacula- 
tion, throws unlighted cigarette on ash-tray, and 



80 PEG O' MY HEART 

blows out match. Peg, still imitating her, dees 
same.) 

Ethel. (7* ising) Why do you watch me? 

Peg. (Rising) Aren't you my model? (Mis- 
chievously. To front of tabic. Ethel turns away 
angrily and starts upstairs. Peg goes to her) 
Ethel ! I w is only fooling. I was trying to have 
some fun. r . was only trying to make you laugh. 
I want to talk to you. 

Ethel. (Going up two stairs) You were told 
to study. 

;. (Comes to newel-post. Pause) Ye know 
we are both girls in the same house, of the i 
family, pretty much of the same age, and you've 
never said a kind word to me since I've been here. 
Ye like your dog better than me, don't ye? (Ethel 
fondles Pet) I'm sorry Michael hurt him. It was 
my fault. I set him on to do it. 

Ethel. (Coining dozvn to foot of stairs, turns 
to her) You? 

Peg. (At post back of tabic, nods) I thought it 
was a rabbit at a distance. If a dog has got to be a 
dog it should be made to look like a dog. Ye'd 
know that Michael was a dog. (Ethel turns up- 
stairs again) Ethel! I don't want to talk about 
dogs. Won't ye make friends with me ? I want to 
ask ye something. 

Ethel. (Goes up to yd stair) We have noth- 
ing in common. 

Peg. That doesn't prevent us being decent to 
each other. 

Ethel. (Pause,) Decent? 

Peg. I'll meet ye threequarters of the way if ye'll 
only show one generous feeling toward me. 
(Pause) Ye would if ye knew what was in my 
mind. 



PEG O' MY HEART 81 

EuiLb. (Goes to foot of stairs) You're a 
Strange creature. 

Peg.- (Crossing to R. c.) You've got us mixed 
Up. I'm not the strange one. I'm just what I am. 
I don't want to he anythin' else. But you, all of 
ye, arc trying to be soniethin' different from what 
ye are. 

Ethel, (l. of table) What do you mean? 

Peg. (By armchair r. of table) I watch ye and 
listen to ye. Ye turn yer face to the world as much 
as to say " Aren't I the easy-goin', sweet-tempered, 
calm young lady ? " And ve're not quite that, are 
ye? 

Ethel. What am I? (Sits l. of table) 

Peg. (Sits R. of table) Of course, ye've got the 
breedin' and the beautiful manners, but up in yer 
head and down in yer heart you worry your soul 
all the time. And ye have a temper. And it's a 
beautiful temper. It's a shame for ye not to let it 
out in the daylight so that everyone can see it. But 
ye can't, can ye ? Because it's not good form. And 
with all yer fine advantages ye're not very happy, 
are ye? (Ethel turns her head away and dozmi~) 
Are ye, dear? 

Ethel. (Slowly) No. I'm not. 

Peg. Nayther am I in this house. (Pause) 
Couldn't we thry to comfort each other? (Crosses 
to Ethel at table) 

Ethel. Comfort ? You? 

Peg. Sure, a kindly impulse gives ye a warm 
f eelin' around the heart, so they say. And ye'd have 
it if ye'd only be a little kind to me. 

Ethel. (Rises, moved in spite of herself) I'm 
afraid I have been a little inconsiderate. 

Peg. Ye have. 

Ethel. What would you like me to do? 

Peg. I'd like ye to spake to me as if I were a 
human bein', and not a clod of earth. 



82 PEG O' MY HEART 

Ethel. Very well, Margaret, I \ 
Peg, I c.) Thank j 
■ >, Peg Ethel ! I'd like very 

muc something else. 

Ethel. ( Turn i I What is it ? 

back to i.. 0/ table) 

Peg. (Close to Ethel) : anything 

.; love? 
Ethel. ( 

bark) 

iifl. Eagerly) What do 

»t! (Comes dmvn to front of bench, 
locks ai letter) 

[Sits . 'menial nons 

exists only in nov 

•citedly) Ye're wrong. It's the most 
wonderful thing in the \\ rid. To I man 

who I > 1 I, 

\ . ho 
when 

he wont aw; y fri that ? 

Ethel. Ne 
Peg. Oh! It's mighty disturbin', so it is. (Sits 

beside Etliel) One day ye walk on air, and the 
next yer feet are like lead. One day the world's 
all beautiful flowers and sweet music and sunshine. 
and the next day it's all coffins and corpses. (Shak- 
ing her head) It's mighty disturbing so it is. 

Ethel. How do you know all this ? 

Peg. (Hurriedly) I read about it in a m\a., 
big- book. 



PEG O' MY HEART 83 

Ethel. When you're a little older you'll think 
differently. You'll" realize it's all primitive. 

Peg. Primitive ? 

Ethel. Of the earth, earthy. 

Pec. (Suddenly) Don't you like men? 

Ethel. Not much. 

Peg. (r. end of couch) Just dogs? 

Ethel, (l. end of couch) You can trust them. 
(Caresses Pet) 

Peg. I like dogs, too. But I like children very 
much better. (Suddenly) Wouldn't ye like to have 
a child of yer own? 

(Horrified) Really, Margaret! 

Peg. Wei; I that's the woman in 

us. Ye only fondle that thing — (Pointing to Pet) 

•'lick to call yer own. 
All the selfish They're afraid to 

have children. I like dogs, too. They're all very 
well in their it sure they can't laugh to ye, 

and cry to ye, and comfort ye. like a baby can. 
(Points to Pet) Ye know, that thing could never be 
ident of the United State-:. But if ye had a 
child he might grow up to be President. 
1 el. 1 \ 

Peg. It's very human, too. I a were a 

I think we'd get along better, I 
do. 

Ethel. (Rises and crosses c.) It is not cus- 
tomary for girls to talk about si ch things. 

Peg. I know it isn't, and i can't understand why 
we shouldn't discuss events of national importance. 
I know it's not customary. We think about them — 
why can't we talk about them? If there was more 
honesty in the w< 1 Id there would be less sin. 

Ethel. argaret. (Tttming) 

Peg. (Rises and crosses to Ethel c.) Now, let 
us be honest with each other. 



8 4 PEG O' MY HEART 

Ethel. What do you mean? 

Peg. You like Mr. Brent, don't ye? 

Ethel. (Instinctively puts letter behind her back) 
Certainly, I do. He's a very old friend of the 
family. 

Peg. He has a wife? 

Ethel. He has. 

Peg. He has a babv? 

Ethel. Well ! 

Peg. Of course, Eve never seen them. He never 
brings them along with him when he calls on you, 
but ye'd know he had 'em if ye ever heard Al'aric 
ask after 'em. 

Ethel. What of that? 

Peg. Is it customary for English husbands with 
babies to kiss other women — (Ethel turns on her) 
say, to kiss other women's hands? 

Ethel. (Pause. Checks her anger) It is a very 
old and very respected custom. 

Peg. Devil doubt it but it's old. km not so sure 
about the respect. Why doesn't he kiss my aunt 
when he com( s to this house? 

Ethel. Oh! You don't understand. (Crosses 
to foot of stairs) 

Peg. I know I don't, but I'm trying to. 

Ethel. (At foot of stairs) I suppose it is too 
much to expect that a child of the common people 
should understand the customs of decent people. 

Peg. Why should the common people have all 
the decency and why should the aristocracy have 
none of the decency. (Ethel goes io stairs and up 
two steps. Peg, at foot of stairs, looks at Iter) 
Don't get mad. I didn't mean it. I've heard my 
father say that in one of his speeches, and it came 
to my tongue first thing. 

Ethel. (Up yd stair, indignantly) Oh! Be 
good enough never to speak to me again as long as 
you're in this house. (Enter Jarvis) If I had my 



PEG O' MY HEA 8* 

way you'd leave it this moment. As it is — as it is — 
(Looks at letter. Peg to front of table, Jarvis l., 
shows in Jerry, who is in evening-dress, light slim- 
mer overcoat, and Homburg hat. Ethel shakes 
hands with Jerry) How do you do? Excuse me 
just a moment. Wait, Jarvis. {Goes to writing- 
desk, tears envelope opens, adds a postscript, ad- 
dresses another envelope, and seals it. The moment 
Jerry enters Peg's face lights up. She gives him 
her hand) 

Jerry. Well, and how is Miss Peg? 

Peg. Oh! I'm fine, Mr. Jerry. How are you? 
Let me take yer hat and coat. 

Jerry. No, thank you. I'm not going to stay. 

Peg. (c., disappointedly) Ye're not? 

Jerry, (c.) Is your aunt in? 

Peg. Yes. Are you calling on her? 

Jerry. Yes. 

Ethel. (Rises, hands letter to Jarvis) Send 
that, please. 

(Exit Jarvis.) 

Jerry, (c., bringing Ethel into the scene) Fve 
come to ask your mother if she would let you both 
come to a dance to-night across at the Assembly 
Rooms. 

Ethel. I'm sorry. I can't go. I have a head- 
ache. (Turns and crosses l. to door) 

Jerry, (l. c.) What a pity! Do you suppose 
your mother would allow Miss Margaret to go ? 

Ethel. (Stops and turns) I'll ask her. (Goes 
to door l.) 

Peg. (Impulsively runs to her. In undertone) 
I didn't mean to hurt ye — (Ethel goes out l. Peg 
comes back ruefully and sits on couch, after which 
Jerry puts hat and coat on chair l. of table) 

Jerry, (c.) What's the matter? 



86 PEG O' MY HEART 

Peg. (Sits back of couch) I tell you, one of us 
girls has been brought up all wrong. I tried to make 
friends with her, but only made her hopping-mad, as 
I make everybody else in this house. The minute I 
open my mouth away they go. 

Jerry. Arn't you friends? 

Peg. No. We're not. None of them are with 
me. 

Jerry. What a shame ! 

Peg. Wait until ye hear me aunt when ye ask her 
about the dance. 

Jerry. Don't you think she will let you go? 

Peg. No. I know she won't let me go. I know 
that. The question is — are we going? (Deter- 
minedly, rises and goes to him) I want to go to 
that dance, Jerry. 

Jerry. Why, Peg 

Peg. (l.) I do want to go to that dance. I'm 
crazy mad to go to that dance. 

(Jerry shakes his head.) 

Jerry. We'll ask your aunt. 

Peg. I know we will. We'll ask her to-morrow. 

Jerry. No. We'll ask her to-night. 

Peg. Don't let's take any chances. I do want 
to go to that dance, Jerry. 

Jerry. No, Peg, no. 

Peg. Well, if you think I'm going to let a dance 
get by me you're very much mistaken. When the 
lights are all out and they're all asleep I'll creep 
down the stairs and meet you at the foot of the path. 
And if it goes against your tender conscience to take 
me — I'll take you — and that's how we'll settle that. 

Jerry, (c. Laughing) But there may not be 
any occasion to do any such wild, foolish thing. 
Your aunt may be delighted. 

Peg. My aunt doesn't know how to spell that. 



PEG O' MY HEART 87 

Jerry. (Sits on table c, looking at books) Are 
these your books ? How are your studies progress- 
ing? 

Peg. The way they always have. They're stand- 
ing still. I can't see the sense of learnin' the heights 
of a lot of mountains I'm never goin' to climb. 
And I want to tell you, I'm surprised at my aunt 
allowing me to read about the doings of those dead 
kings. I think Charles II was a devil. 

Jerry. They made history. 

Peg. Did they? Well, they ought to have been 
ashamed of themselves. I don't care how high 
Mont Blanc is, and I don't care when William the 
Conqueror landed in England. 

Jerry. Oh, nonsense 

Peg. And I tell ye, I hate yer English history — 
it makes all my Irish blood boil, so it does. " What 
is England ? Do you know what it is ? It's a bit of 
a counthry that's tramplin' down a fine race like 
ours." That's what my father says, and that's how 
my father says it, with his fist, and nobody ever con- 
tradicts him either. 

(Jerry laughs.) 

Jerry. Is it fair to your aunt? 

Peg. (Sullenly) I don't know. 

Jerry. Is it fair to yourself? 

Peg. That sounds like my aunt, that does. 

Jerry. You'll be at such a disadvantage by-and- 
by with other girls with half your intelligence just 
because they know the things you refuse to learn. 
Then you'll be ashamed. 

Peg. Are yon ashamed of me? 

Jerry. Not a bit. 

Peg. You're not ashamed of me, are ye? 

Jerry. Of course not. 



88 PEG O' MY HEART 

Peg. Then everything's all right then. What's 
the matter? (Goes to piano and sits on stool) 

Jerry. I was just the same at your age. (Crosses 
to arm chair R.) I used to scamp at school and shirk 
at college until I found myself so far behind fellows 
I despised that I was ashamed. Then I went after 
them tooth and nail until I caught them up and 
passed them. (Kneels on chair r. c.) 

Peg. (Eagerly) Did ye now? 

Jerry. I did. 

Teg. I am going to do that, too. 

Jerry. Will you? 

Peg. (Nods vigorously) From now on I'm 
going to learn everything they teach me, if it kills 
me 

Jerry. I wish you would. 

Peg. And after I know more than anybody else 
in all the world ever knew are you going to be very 
proud of me? (Wistfully) 

Jerry. (Kneeling on anncliair r.) Very. Even 
more than I am now. 

Peg. Are ye proud of me now? 

Jerry. Yes, Peg, proud to think you're my 
friend. 

Peg. Faith, that's not news. I know very well 
that we're friends. 

Jerry. I am yours. 

Peg. Sure, I guess I'm you yours all right. 
(Looks at him, laughs shyly, presses her cheeks) 
Did ye ever hear what Tom Moore wrote about 
friendship? 

Jerry. No. 

Peg. (Excitedly) Would ye like to hear what 
Tom Moore wrote about friendship? 

Jerry. Yes. 

Peg. See if anybody's comin'. (Jerry crosses 
to stairs and listens. Peg starts playing) 



PEG O' MY HEART 89 

Jerry. (Crosses to armchair r. c.) Oho! So 
you play? 

Peg. (Nods, laughing) A little bit. My father 
taught me. But my aunt can't bear it. Do you 
know what the teacher here told me? She said I 
should do this — (Plays scale) — for two years. I 
should do that before I played a tune. I told her 
I played by ear. She said I had no ear. 

Jerry. (Looking at her ears) I think they're 
very pretty. 

Peg. Do ye? 

Jerry. I do. 

Peg. Well, you watch them, and then you won't 
mind my singin'. Come on over in Jarvis' high- 
chair. (Jerry crosses to chair below piano. Peg 
smiles up at him) About a girl, this is, who built 
a shrine. And she thought the best Ihing in the 
world to put in it was an image of " Friendship ". 

Jerry. Yes. 

Peg. Yes. You see she was like you. She 
thought there was nothing in the world as nice as 
friendship. 

Jerry. Yes. 

Peg. Yes. And this is what happened to her. 
(Laughs a little elfish laugh, and then croons softly) 
" She flew to a sculptor, who set down before her 

A " Friendship," the fairest his art could invent. 

But so cold and so dull that this Youthful adorer 
Saw plainly that was not the Friendship she 
meant. 

(Sings.) 

Oh, never,' she cried, " could I think of enshrin- 
ing 
An image whose looks are so joyless and dim, 
But yon little Cupid — (Points to Cupid) 
midst roses reclining, 



9 o 



PEG O' MY HEART 



We'll rflake, if vou please, sir, a Friendship of 
him." 

A Friendship of Cupid. (Jerry looks at the 
statuette. Peg nods, smiting, and excitedly sings) 

" ' Farewell,' said the sculptor, 'Sure, you're not the 
first maiden 

Who came but for Friendship and took away — 
(Pause) 

Love." 
(Her voice dies away to a whisper) 

Jerry. (Amazed) Where in the world did you 
learn that? 

Peg. My father taught me that. Tom Moore's 
my father's prayer-book. 

Jerry. (Rises and crosses c.) " Who came but 
for Friendship and took away Love." 

Peg. (On piano-stool) Isn't that beautiful? 

Jerry. Is there anything better than friendship 
between man and woman? 

Peg. Of course there is. (Crosses R. c., nods, 
goes to him) My father felt it toward my mother 
or I wouldn't be here now. 

Jerry. Could you ever feel it, Peg? 

(Peg nods.) 

Peg. I wish I'd studied — I'd be more worthy 
of — (Crosses l. c, suddenly breaking off. Jerry, 
c, turns to her. Peg covering up what is in her 
mind and on her tongue) I'm just an Irish nothing. 

Jerry. Don't say that. 

Peg. Yet I'm sure there is something good in 
me, but the bad little something always beats the 
good little something out, so it does. 

Jerry. What you call the bad in you is just the 
cry of youth that resents beine: curbed, and the 



PEG O' MY HEART 91 

good in you is the woman struggling for an outlet. 

Peg. Will you help me to give it an outlet, Mr. 
Jerry ? 

jerry. Yes. In every way in my power. 

Peg. (Roguishly) Well, would ye mind very 
much if the bad little something had just one more 
spurt before I killed it altogether. 

Jerry. What do you mean? 

Peg. I want to go to the dance. It's the last bad 
thing I'll ask you to let me do. I'll behave like a 
Saint from Heaven after that. I'll die happy if I 
can waltz once around the floor with you. (Plead- 
ing. Dances up to him, and waltzes round him to 
r. Enter l. Mrs. Chichester, wlio looks at Peg 
in horrified amazement) 

Mrs. Chichester. Oh ! What does this mean ? 

(L. C.) 

Jerry. (Crossing to Mrs. Chichester) I want 
you to do something that will make the child very 
happy. Will you allow her to go to a dance at the 
Assembly Rooms to-night? 

Mrs. Chichester. Certainly not. I'm surprised 
at your asking such a thing. 

Peg. (Sits armchair r. c.) I could have told 
you that backwards. 

Jerry. (Straightening up) I asked Ethel as 
well, but she can't go, as she's got a headache. I 
thought you might be pleased at giving your niece 
a little pleasure. 

Mrs. Chichester. Go to a dance? Un- 
chaperoned ? 

Jerry. My mother and sisters will be there. 

Mrs. Chichester. (Crossing him to c.) A child 
of her age ! 

Peg. (Vehemently) A child of my age! My 
father lets me go any place I want to ever since I 
was six. Ye can't raise the Irish on a lot of books. 



92 PEG O' MY HEART 

It's never been done. They'll die on yer hands, 
they will. I'm crazy mad to go to that dance. 

Mrs. Chichester. No, Margaret. 

Peg. I'll study my head off in the morning if 
ye'll iet me dance my feet off a little bit to-night. 

Mrs. Chichester. No. 

Peg. {Pleadingly) I ask ye on my bended 
knees, — Please let me go to the dance. 

Mrs. Chichester. No, Margaret. No. 

Peg. All right. I give ye fair warning, I'm going 
to the dance. 

Mrs. Chichester. {To Jerry) It was very 
good of you to trouble to come over. Forgive me 
if I seem ungracious, but it's quite out of the ques- 
tion. 

(Peg winks at Jerry behind Mrs. Chichester's 
back, and rises.) 

Jerry. (Gets hat and coat front chair l. of 
table) I'm sorry. (SJiakes hands with Mrs. Chi- 
chester) 

Mrs. Chichester, (c.) Kindly remember me 
to your mother and sisters. 

Jerry. With pleasure. Good-night! {Goes to 
door l.) 

Peg. Good-night, Mr. Jerry. {Pantomimes 
Jerry that she ivill be down to meet him and go to 
the dance after they're all in bed. Mrs. Chichester 
looking round and seeing her making signs, Peg 
pretends to be catching a fly. Exit Jerry) 

Mrs. Chichester, (l.) What do you mean by 
twirling around in that disgraceful way? Are you 
ever going to learn how to behave ? 

Peg. (c.) Yes, aunt. I'm never going to annoy 
you after to-night. I'm going to work very hard, 
too, — after to-night. Don't ye see what a disad- 
vantage I'd be at with other girls of half my age and 



PEG O' MY HEART 93 

half my intelligence. I'm going after them tooth 
and nail, and I'll catch them up and pass them, and 
then he'll be proud of me, he will. 

Mrs. Chichester. What? 

Peg. Ye'll be proud of me, I said, ye will. 

Mrs. Chichester. What is all this ? 

Peg. It's what I'm going to do — after to-night. 

Mrs. Chichester. Well, I'm very glad to hear it. 

Peg. I knew ye would be. And I'll never be any 
trouble to ye — after to-night. 

Mrs. Chichester. I hope you will be of the 
same opinion in the morning. 

Peg. I hope so, too. D'ye mind very much if I 

sit up for an hour 

' Mrs. Chichester. What? 

Peg. Study, I mean. 

(Mrs. Chichester crosses to piano.) 

Mrs. Chichester. Study just one hour. That 
will be very nice. 

(Peg goes to back of table, sits, and opens atlas.) 

Peg. Are you going to bed now? 

Mrs. Chichester. Yes. 

Peg. Everybody in the house going to bed now? 

_Mrs. Chichester. Yes. Everybody. (Shuts 
piano, goes up and closes zuindows, turns off hall 
lamp ) 

Peg. That's good. (Sings song) 

" Man^ dear, I remember when coming home the 

rain began. 
I wrapped my frieze coat round her, and devil a 

waistcoat had I on. 
My shirt was rather fine-drawn, but, oh, the false 

and cruel one. 
For all o' that she's gone and left me here for to 

die." 



94 PEG O' MY HEART 

Mrs. Chichester. Where on earth did you hear 
a song like that ? 

Peg. That's a tine song, that is. That's my 
father's best song. An Irish song, that is. 

Mrs. Chichester. I should think it was. 
(Closes curtains) 

Peg. It has twenty-two verses. 

Mrs. Chichester. (Comes down l. of Peg) 
Has it, indeed? 

Peg. Yes. I know them all, too. (Si)igs again) 

" Man, dear, and did ye never hear of pretty Molly 
Brannigan? 

Faith, and she has left me, and Til never be a man 
again. 

Mrs. Chichester. Now, now ! Don't make any 
noise. 

Peg. That's not a noise. That's my best sing- 
ing. That's very discouraging to a young singer. 
>. Chichester. Good-night, Margaret. And, 
oh, if only you would keep your hair out of your 
eyes. 

Peg. Well, why don't you let me wear one of 
your fishnets? (Mrs. Chichester goes upstairs 
saying "Fishnets!" Peg calling) Oh, Aunt! 

Mrs. Chichester. Yes? 

Peg. Do you remember I said I had to be getting 
back home? Weil, I've changed my mind. Pd like 
to stay here another month, plea. 

Mrs. Chichester. (Top of stairs) Weil, we'll 
talk it over with Mr. Hawkes in the mornincr. 

(Warning.) 

Peg. Yes, Aunt. 

Mrs. Chichester. Good-night, Margaret. 
Peg. God bless you. (Exit Mrs. Chichester. 
Business. Sings) 



PEG O' MY HEART 95 

" The left side of my carcass is as weak as water- 
gruel, man. 
There's not a pick upon my bones since Molly's 

proved so cruel, man. 
And if I had a blunder-gun I'd go and fight a duel, 

man, 
Tis better I should shoot myself than live here to 
die." 

(Or) 

" The place where my heart was you could easy 

roll a turnip in. 
Tis as wide as old Dublin, and from Dublin to 

the Devil's Glyn. 
If she wished to take another, sure, she might 

have left mine back again, 
And not have gone and left me here alone for to 

die." 

(Ethel enters, goes upstairs, and exits without a 
word as Peg sings.) 

" I'm cool and determined as any Alexander man 
Will ye come to my wake when I go the long 
meander, man ? " 

Hello, Ethel ! {Mimics Ethel) " How do ye do. 
Margaret ? " " Im' studying for an hour." (Turning 
leaves of atlas) " I'm trying to find England." 
(Pause) " Good night, Ethel." " Good night, Mar- 
garet, dear." " Sleep tight, Ethel." " Oh, that's all 
right, Margaret." " Don't mention it, Ethel." 
(Mimics Alaric) " What's the population of 
Turkey? Ye little devil! Study all the pretty 
maps. Model yourself on Ethel. Sit down like 
Ethel." (Noise with mouth. Goes up c. and palls 
curtains open. Clock strikes nine) I wonder if he's 
coming back. (Comes down and sits chair r. of 



96 PEG O' MY HEART 

table. Mimics Mrs. Chichester and Jerry) " Go 
to a dance unchaperoned ? Oh, no. Not unchap- 
eroned." " My mother and sisters will be there. 
Eh, what? What, what?" " Go to a dance? 
A child of her age ? Margaret, I'm surprised. No, 
sir. No dance. Not until she's — eighty." 

Curtain falls for about ten seconds 

(As soon as curtain is down start music under stage) 

Curtain 

(Curtain rises Dance music " False Mauve" heard 
faintly in the distance. Jerry enters through 
opening r. u. e., goes to stairs, listens, then goes 
back to r. u. e.) 

Jerry It's all right. (Peg enters, goes to stairs, 
listens, then comes to Jerry, who has gone to piano 
and put down his hat) 

Peg. Oh, I'm so happy ! So happy ! The whole 
world's goin' round in one grand waltz, and it's all 
been through you, Mr. Jerry. (Dances to the dis- 
tant music) 

Jerry. (Up r. c.) I'm glad it's been through 
me, Peg. 

Peg. I don't see why it can't all be like this. Why 
can't we laugh and dance our way through it all? 

Jerry I wish I could make the world one great 
ballroom for you. 

_ Peg. And no creepin' back like a thief in the 
night ! 

Jerry. No — your own mistress, free to do what- 
ever you wish. 

Peg. (Suddenly, with a little elfish laugh) Yet, 
you know, half the fun to-night has been that while 
I'm supposed to be sleepin' upstairs I've been at 



PEG O' MY HEART 97 

the dance stealin' time. Do ye know " the best of 
all ways to lengthen your days ? " 

Terry. No. ' 

Peg. " It's to steal a few hours from the night, 
my dear." 

Terry. (By piano) Well, you've stolen them. 

Peg. I'm a thief, I am. 

Terry. No. You're the sweetest, dearest — 
(Bends over her, cheeks himself, goes to piano for 
hat) I think you'd better go to bed now. 

Peg. I know that. But what were ye goin' to 
say to me? 

Terry. Something it would be better to say in 
daylight. 

Peg. But why in the daylight, with the beautiful 
bright moon so high in the heavens ? 

Jerry. Go now. Someone may hear us. 

Peg. I'll not sleep a wink thinkin' of all the 
wonderful things that have happened this night. 
Must I go? 

Jerry. You must. 

Peg. With the music coming in across the lawn? 

Jerry. Someone might come. 

Peg. And the moon so high in the heavens? 

Jerry. I don't want to cause you any trouble. 

Peg. That's a grand moon, so it is. 

Jerry. Go, Peg, go. 

Peg. (Crosses over to l. by post) All right. T 
suppose you do know best, but that's a magnificent 
moon. Good-night, Mr. Jerry. 

(Stop music) 

Jerry. Good-night, Peg. (Kisses her hand. 
SJie gives a little sigh and looks at her hand. Foot- 
steps are heard in the garden. At opening r.) Take 
care! Someone is coming. (Goes out. Peg sits on 
stairs, hiding behind newel post. Brent appears 
outside opening r.) Hello, Brent ! 



Q S PEG O' my heart 

Brent. Why, what in the world- 



Jerry. Ssh! The house is asleep. 

Brent. So I see. 

Jerry. Just coming from the dance? I didn't 
see you there. 

Brent. No. I was restless, and just strolled 
here. 

Jerry. (Takes Brent's arm) Shall we go along 
to the road together? 

B R E NT. Right 

Jerry. Strolled here? Why, you've got your car. 
Brent. Car? Yes. It's a bright night for a spin. 

(They disappear) 

(Peg remains in the same position till they are out 
of hearing, then she creeps up the stairs. At 
the top she starts back, and Ethel appears, 
fully dressed, carrying a small dressing-bag. 
el waits to c wn till Peg is nearly at 

the top of the stairs. 

Peg. Ethel ! 

Ethel. (At head of stairs. In guarded tones) 
Go down into the room. (Peg goes downstairs to 
c., Ethel following her to l. front of table) 

Peg. (r. front of table) Ye won't tell your 
mother, will ye? She'd send me away, and I don't 
want to go away now. Eve been to the dance. 

Ethel. To the dance ? 

Peg. Yes. Mr. Jerry took me. 

Ethel. Jerry? 

Peg. Yes. Ye won't tell your mother, will ye? 
(Backing to c.) 

Ethel. (Following) I most certainly shall see 
that mv mother knows it. 

Peg.' You will ? 

Ethel. I will. You had no right to go. 

Peg. Why are you so hard on me, Ethel? 



PEG O' MY HEART 99 

Ethel. (Crossing R. and up r.) Because I de- 
test you. 

Peg. I'm sorry. Ye've spoilt all my pleasure 
now, so you have. (Starts to siairs and goes slowly 
up. Stops, think, looks at Ethel) Wait a minute ! 
What are you doin' yourself with your hat and coat 
on at this time of night? (Coming back l. c.) 

Ethel, (r., turning to Peg) Go to your room! 

Peg. (l. c.) Were you goin' away? 

Ethel, (c.) Keep your voice down. 

Peg. He was here a minute ago — Jerry took him 
away. 

Ethel. Who was here? 

Peg. Mr. Brent was here. (Ethel starts. Peg 
grips her zvrist) Were ye goin 5 away with him? 
Were ye? 

Ethel. Take your hands off me. 

Peg. Were ye? Answer me. 

Ethel. Yes. And I am. 

Peg. (Turns Ethel round to l. c.) No. ye're 
not. 

Ethel. Let me go. 

Peg. Ye're not going out of this house to-night 
if I have to wake everyone in it. 

Ethel, (c, front of table) Wake them! They 
can't stop me. Nothing can stop me now. I'm sick 
of this living on charity, sick of meeting you every 
day — an implied insult in your every tone' and- look, 
as much as to say, " I'm giving you your daily bread, 
I'm keeping the roof over you." I'm sick of it, and 
I end it to-night. Let me go, or I'll— I'll — (Starts) 

Peg. What d'ye mean, I'm keepin' the roof over 
ye, I'm givin' ye yer daily bread? What are ye 
ravin' about? 

Ethel. Fin at the end to-night. I'm going — 
(Struggles with Peg) 

Peg. And what d'ye suppose ye'd be agoin' to? 
A wakin 5 and sleepin' hell, suref 



ioo PEG MY HEART 

Ethel, I'm going. 

Peg. Ye'd take him from his wife and her baby?' 

Ethel. He hates them, and I hate this. And 

I'm going 

■;. So ye'd break yer mother's heart and his 
's just to satisfy yer o\. -h pleasu 

Well, I'm glad I sinned to-night in doin' what I 
wanted to do, since it's given me the chance to save 
you from doin' the most a woman 

ever did. 

Ethel. (Tunis) Will you ? 

Peg. re if I have to wake up the 

whole w< 

Ethel, (a, frightenedly) No, no, you mustn't 
do that! 

Peg. Ye just told me yer own mother couidrft 
stop ye. 

iiel. She mustn't know! She mustn't know! 
(Sobs) Let me go. He's waiting. (Moves for- 
ward) 

Peg. You 
his life to a ir duty to protect 

her and the c mid she brought him. 

Ethel, (c.) I'd kill myself first'. 

Peg. (r. c.) Not first. That's what would 
en to ye 'd gone with him. He'd lave 

ye in an hour to sorrow aione. Doesn't he want to 
leave the woman he swore to cherish at the altar of 
God? What do we suppose he'd do to one he took 
no oath with at all? You hive some about 

this. And I want to tell ye it's no c< tnj iiment the 
man's pay in* ye either. Faith, ha'd have made love 
to me if I'd let him. 

Ethel. (Turns to Peg slowly) What? To you? 

Peg. If ye hadn't come in when ye did to-day 
I'd have taught him a lesson he'd have carried to his 
grave, so I would. 



PEG O' MY HEART 101 

Ethel.., (Crossing to Peg) He tried to make 
to you? 

Peg. (r. c.) A dozen times since Eve been in 
yer house. And to-day he walked toward me with 
his arms outstretched, saying, " Come. Let's kiss 
and be friends," and in you came. 

Ethel. (Coming forward r.) Is that true? 

Peg. On my poor mother's memory that's true, 
so it is. 

Ethel. Oh! The wretch! The wretch! 
(Sinks in chair r. of table, drops bag) 

Peg. That's what he is. And ye'd give yer life 
into his keepin' to blacken so that no decent man 
or woman would ever look at ye again. 

Ethel. No. That's over. It's over. I hate 
myself. Oh, how I hate myself! (Crying and 
sobbing) 

Peg. (In a moment all pity) Ethel! Acush 1 a ! 
Don't cry. Don't do that. Don't. Don't ye know 
he's not worth it ? Don't ye know ye've got to kape 
yer life and yer heart clean till the one man in all 
the world comes to ye, and then yell know what 
real happiness means. Don't cry, dear. (Ethel 
buries her face in her hands to deaden the sobs. 
Peg beside her, comforting her. Ethel still crying) 
Well, then, cry. And may the salt of yer tears 'wash 
away the sins of this night and fall like holy water 
on yer sou! ! And with the sunlight the thought of 
all this will go from ye. Come to my room and I'll 
sit by yer side till morning. (Peg helps her up. 
Ethel, on the verge of fainting, picks up bag, her 
body trembling with suppressed sobs, totters. Peg 
walks her across to staircase l.) I don't know at 
all how you could think of going away with a 
married man, Ethel. 

Ethel. (Cries) Oh, Margaret! 

Peg. Ssh, dear! You'll wake yer mother up. 



102 PEG O' MY HEART 

Not a sound ! Not a sound now ! We'll talk when 
we get upstairs. Aisy now! (Both creep up the 
stairs. When they are almost at the top Peg slips 
and rolls all the way to the bottom, knocking over 
a brass jardiniere at the top of the stairs, which 
rolls all the way down. Peg rises, runs across to 
r. comer. Ethel folloxvs her. Peg listens) 

Peg. Holy Mary ! 

Ethel. What shall "we do ? What shall we do ? 

Peg. Well, that's ail I'm going to do, I tell you. 
If that doesn't wake them up they're sleeping the 
sleep of the dead. 

( Voices off l.) 

Alaric. (Off l.) He) • " you hear 

it, too? Etc 

Mrs. Chichester. (Off l.) Oh, Alaric! A 
most fearful crash ! Etc. — — 

Ethel. Oh, what shall we do, Margaret? What 
shall we do? 

Peg. Give me your hat and coat, and sit in that 
chair. (Takes off her cap and cloak and puts on 
Ethel's hat and coat) I'll do all the talking, though 
what the devil I'll say I don't know. Don't you say 
a word. Your mother mustn't know you were going 
out of the house with that man. It would break 
her heart. Where's your bag? (Takes bag quickly 
from Ethel. Door l. opens and Jarvis enters. 
Mrs. Chichester and Alaric coming down the 
stairs with candles, Mrs. Chichester in wrapper, 
Alaric in dressing- gown) 

Alaric. It's all right, Mater. Don't be fright- 
ened. I'm not a bit timid. Thank God you've got 
a man in the house. 

Jarvis. Who's there? (Alaric moves care- 
fully l., collides witJi Jarvis, and takes him by the 
throat) 



PEG O' MY HEART 103 

Alaric. Ah! I've got you? 

Jarvis. I f 's only me, sir. 

Alaric. Oh, get out of the way Jarvis. (Jarvis 
exits l. Alaric moves slozvly c, flashing his light 
all over the room) Now then, come out! Where 
are you ? (Sees the two girls) Ethel ! 

Mrs. Chichester. Margaret ! 

Alaric. Well ! I mean to say ! What I want 
to know is — (Switches on lights. Ethel is dis- 
covered very white and tear-stained in the chair, 
Peg standing beside her, wearing Ethel's coat and 
hat and carrying her hand-bag in her right hand) 
What are you two girls playing at? 

Mrs. Chichester (To Peg) What does this 
mean ? 

Peg. Sure, I was going out, and when I came in 
Ethel said to me 

Mrs. Chichester Where were you going? 

Peg. I was going out, and — when I came in — 
Ethel said to me 

Mrs. Chichester. Where were you going? 

Peg. I was going out, I said, and — Ethel came 
in 

Mrs. Chichester. Why, that's Ethel's cloak. 

Peg. I got her hat on, too. And Eve got her bag. 
(Trying to distract Mrs. Chichester's attention 
from Ethel, who is half -fainting, puts bag on 
corner of table) 

Mrs. Chichester. Her bag! Ethel's bag! 
(Opens bag, takes cut wash-leather bag) Her 
jewel-bag! 

Peg. Jewel-bag ! 

Mrs. Chichester. Where did you get this? 

Peg. I took them. 

Mrs. Chichester. You took them ? 

Peg. Yes. I took them. 

Mrs. Chichester. You were stealing them? 

Peg. No. I wasn't stealing them. I took 'em. 



-& 



104 PEG O' MY HEART 

Mrs. Chichester. Why did you take them? 

Peg. I wanted to wear them. 

Mrs. Chichester, (c.) Wear them? 

Peg. I always had an idea I should like to wear 
Ethel's jewels and her hat and coat. 

Mrs. Chichester. At this time of night? 

Peg. (r. c. Jumping at the explanation) I went 
to the dance, I did. 

Mrs. Chichester, (l. c.) What dance? 

Peg. (r. c.) I went to the dance with Mr. Jerry, 
and I thought it would be a good chance to wear 
Ethel's jewels and her hat and coat. So I put on 
her hat and coat, and I wore her jewels, and I went 
to the dance, and when I came back I made a noise, 
and Ethel heard me. She put on some clothes and 
came downstairs and said, " Where have you 
been?" I said, "I've been to the dance with Mr. 
Jerry." She said, " You'd better go to bed," and I 
said, " All right, "and I started up the stairs, and 
some noisy thing came all the way down and forninst 
me. 

Alaric. {Crosses back of table to arch r.) 
There's someone prowling in the garden. 

Mrs. Chichester. Oh, Alaric! (Puts back 
jewel-bag and closes hand-bag) 

Alaric. He's on the path. 

Ethel. (Rise's, but sits again as Peg soothes 
her) Mr. Brent! 

Alaric. Pie's coming here. Don't be frightened, 
Mater. I'll deal with him. (Ethel straightens up, 
here eyes distended. Peg grips her hand to quiet 
her) Now, then ! What do you want here? Good 
Lord ! Jerry ! 

(Music False Mauve begins again very faint in the 
distance. Enter Jerry.) 

Jerry. (Comes down r.) I saw your lights go 
up and I ran back. I guessed something like this 



PEG O' MY HEART 105 

had happened. Don't be hard on your niece. The 
whole thing was entirely my fault. I asked her to 
go. 

Mrs. Chichester. You took my niece to a dance 
in spite of my absolute refusal to allow her to &o? 

Peg. He had nothing to do with it all. I took him 
to the dance, I did. I took him. 

Mrs. Chichester. Surely Sir Gerald Adair 
knows better than to take a girl of eighteen to a 
public ball without the sanction of her relatives? 

(Jerry crosses into c.) 

Peg. (r.) Sir Gerald? (To Jerry) So you 
have a title, have yez? 

Jerry, (r. c.) Yes, Peg. 

Mrs. Chichester. Now I hope you realize what 
you've done. 

Peg. I am just beginning to realize what I've 
done, so I am. 

Mrs. Chichester. You've disgraced us all. 

Peg. (Fiercely) Have I? 

Mrs. Chichester. I'm ashamed of you. 

Peg. Are you? Well, I'm going back to my 
father, who's never ashamed of me. Everything I 
do is right because I do it. I've disgraced you, have 
I? There's not one of you in this house will tell 
the truth to me — (To Jerry) — and I'm going back to 
my father. 

Mrs. Chichester. Well, go back to your father. 

Peg. (Starts forward angrily to Mrs. Chiches- 
ter) I've never been mad about your house. 

(Warning.) 

Ethel. (Hysterically. Rising from chair) No, 
no ! Wait ! Don't go. Mother, we are not treating 
her fairly. You found her here to-night because — 



106 PEG O' MY HEART 

because — (Faints in chair. General movement. 
Peg bends over her) 

Peg. She's fainted. Get some water and some 
smelling-salts. (Jerry exit l. for water) 

Alaric. (Runs upstairs) Smelling-salts. 

Mrs. Chichester. (Comes running over to 
cliair) Ethel? 

Peg. (Hysterically) That's all right. What 
help can you be to her now that she's fainted, I'd 
like to know. You don't know how to raise her. 
You don't know one thought in yoor daughter's 
mind. You don't know who she sees or who she 
goes with. Why don't you try to find out something 
about your own child once in a while:' A lot you 
know about motherhood ! My father knows more 
about motherhood than any man in the world. 

(First curtain.) 

(Jerry comes in l. with water, hands it to Mrs. 
Chichester, Alaric comes downstairs zvith 
smelling-salts and over to r. Second curtain. 
Act plays fifty-three minutes.) 



PEG O' MY HEART 107 



ACT III 

Scene: Same as Act I. N. B. Same flowers as 
in Act II, a few fallen leaves on table and 
floor {on writing desk wild flozvers). 

Time : Next morning. 

Discovered: Alaric sitting on zvindow-seat up at 
back reading a newspaper. 

(Enter Mrs. Chichester, pale and weary, from up- 
stairs L.) 

Alaric. Jumps up, puts down paper, meets Mrs. 
Chichester at foot of stairs) Mornin', Mater. 
(Kisses her on forehead) How are you feelin'? 

Mrs. Chichester. (Crossing him to table l.) 
I didn't close my eyes all night. 

Alaric. (l. c.) Isn't that rotten? I was a bit 
plungy myself. You know — first one side and then 
the other. (Yawns) 

Mrs. Chichester. (Sits) What is to be done? 

Alaric. (l. c. stretching his arms) Get in forty 
winks during the day, I suppose. 

Mrs. Chichester. I mean about Margaret. 
^Alaric. Oh! The little devil. (Crosses and 
sits^ on couch l.) Nothin' that I can see. She's got 
it into her stubborn little head that she means to 
leave us, and that's the end of it. 

Mrs. Chichester. And the end of our income. 

Alaric. Well, you were a bit rough on her, 
Mater. Now I come to think, we've all been a bit 
rough on her, except me. I did make her laugh 
once or twice. Poor little soul ! After all, suppose 



ro8 PEG O' MY HEART 

she did want to dance. What's the use of fussing? 
Let her, I say. Let her dance. Let her dance. 

Mrs. Chichester. A child of her age? 

Alaric. Child! Why, in America they're 
grown women with families at her age. 

Mrs. Chichester. Thank Heaven they're not 
in England. 

Alaric. No. But they will be, Mater. They're 
kick in' over the traces every day. One time they 
kept to the pavement. Now they're out in the middle 
of the road, and in thousands. What ho 1 

Mrs. Chichester. Yes. That's true. 

Alaric. Bless me, yes. I know it's true. I've 
met 'em. And some of 'em were rippers. Why, 
there's one little woman I know — well, when I say 
little — she's — she's — you might say magnificent 

Mrs. Chichester. Oh, Alaric 

Alaric. Well, perhaps you're right. 

Mrs. Chichester. And just when I had begun 
to have some hope of her. 

Alaric. Who ? 

Mrs. Chicester. Why, Margaret. 

Alaric. Oh! The imp. (Rises and goes up l. 
to back of table c.) Well, I never did. Not a hope. 
I've always felt she ought to have the inscription 
on dear old Shakespeare's grave waving in front 
of her all the time. How does it go? You know, 
Mater. " Good friend, for goodness sake forbear." 

Mrs. Chichester. But under our influence — in 
time 

Alaric No, no Mater. Peg will always be a 
Peter Pan. (Crosses around table to r.) She'll 
never grow up. She'd play elfish tricks if she had 
a nursery full of infants. 

Mrs. Chichester. Some good man, some day, 
might change that. 

Alaric. Ah! But where is he? No. Back she 
goes to-day, and off I go to-morrow to work. 



PEG O' MY HEART 109 

Mrs. Chichester. Oh, Alaric. 

Alaric. Must hold the roof up, Mater, and pacify 
the tradesmen. (Sits R. on table) 

Mrs. Chichester. (With a sudden thought) 
Alaric ! 

Alaric. Yes ? 

Mrs. Chichester. Do you like her? 

Alaric. Oh, here and there. She amuses me 
like anything at times. She drew a map of Europe 
the other day that was the most fearful and wonder- 
ful thing I ever saw. Looked like some marvellous 
sin. Mostly Ireland. 

Mrs. Chichester. (Rising) Oh, my boy! 

Alaric. What is it? (Rises) You're not going 
to cry? 

Mrs. Chichester, (l. c, zveeps) Oh. if you 
onlv could ! 

Alaric. Could? What? 

Mrs. Chichester, (c.) Take that little way- 
ward child into your life and mould her. 

Alaric. Me ? 

Mrs. Chichester. Yes. 

Alaric. (c.) No, Mater. I can do most things, 
but as a " Moulder " oh, no. Let Ethel do it. 
(Moves azvay down r.) 

Mrs. Chichester. (Follozving him down r.) I 
mean to take her really into your life — to have and 
to hold ! 

Alaric. I don't want to hold her. 

Mrs. Chichester. It would be the saving of 
her. 

Alaric. That's all very well, but what about 
me? 

Mrs. Chichester. It would be the saving of us. 

Alaric. How would my holding and moulding 
her save us? 

Mrs. Chicltester. She'd stay with us if you 
were engaged. 



no PEG O' MY HEART 

Alaric. Engaged ! Don't, Mother, please. (Sits 
armchair R., shivers) Good Lord ! Engaged to that 
tomboy ! 

Mrs. Chichester, (r. c.) She has the blood 
of the Kingsnorths. 

Alaric. Pretty well covered up in O'Conneli — 
Irish. 

Mrs. Chichester. She has the breeding of my 
sister, Angela. 

Alaric. (In armchair r.) Well, you wouldn't 
think it to watch her. 

Mrs. Chichester, (r. c.) And she'll have five 
thousand a year when she's twenty-one. 

Alaric. ( Whistles — business. Rises and 

looks at Mrs. Chichester) Five thousand of the 
very best, eh? 

Mrs. Chichester. (Embraces him) Oh, my 
boy! 

Alaric. Wait a minute. One can't burn all one's 
boats. 

Mrs. Chichester. Think what it means. Your 
family preserved, and a brand snatched from the 
burning. 

Alaric. Ah! That's just it! (Crossing into l. 
c.) I cannot see myself as a brand-snatcher. Be- 
sides, there's that little girl wild about me, and I 
don't dislike her at all, and I've half-promised 

Mrs. Chicpiester. (Crossing to him) It would 
unite our blood. 

Alaric. Oh, hang our blood. 

Mrs. Chichester. It would settle you for life. 

Alaric. (l. c.) Yes. It certainly would. 

Mrs. Chichester. Think what it would mean. 

Alaric. I am. I'm thinking really awfully hard. 
(She moves to him) Just a minute! Give me a 
chance, Mater. (Reasoning) Of course she's not 
half bad lookin', here and there. (Mildly enthu- 
siastic, sits on bench l.) 



PEG O' MY HEART in 

Mrs. Chichester. At times she's beautiful. 
Alaric. (Depressed) She has a shockin' temper. 
Mrs. Chichester. That would soften under the 
restraining hand of affection. 

(Alaric, shaking his head, turns to Mrs. Chi- 
chester.) 

Alaric. She'd have to dress her hair and drop 
that dog. I will not have that dog all over the place. 
In that I would be obeyed. 

Mrs. Chichester. The woman who loves always 
obeys. 

Alaric. Ah! There we have it. Does she love 
me? 

Mrs. Chichester. How could she be near you 
for the last month and not love you? (Crossing 
to him, embracing him) 

Alaric. Of course there is that. (Thinks) 
Well, as you say, if she loves me — and for your 
sake, Mother, — and for darling Ethel's sake — and 
for me — well, anyway, it's a go ! I'll do it. (Crosses 
to c, straightens up. Mrs. Chichester turns to 
him) It'll take a bit of doin' but I'll do it. 

(Enter Peg from stairs. She, too, is pale and 
zvorried, her eyes sleepless. When she see.' 
Mrs. Chichester she stops at bottom of 
stairs.) 

Mrs. Chichester. Good-morning, Margaret! 
Peg. Good-mornin', Ant. 

Mrs. Chichester. Now, Alaric. (Puts his tie 
straight, then exit l.) 

(Peg looks quickly at Alaric, who is nervously argu- 
ing with himself, his back to her. She hurries 
to r. corner, turns piano-cover up, and takes 



ii2 PEG O' MY HEART 

out book. Alaric turns and sees her. She puts 
book under her arm.) 

Alaric. (c.) Hello! What have we got there 
all tucked away? 

Peg. {Holding it up) The only thing I'm takin' 
away that I didn't bring with me. 

Alaric. Oh ! A book ? 

Peg. Shure, you're a very good guesser when 
you see a thing. That's what it is, a book. 

Alaric. You're takin' it away? 

Peg. That's what I said, I'm takin' it away. 
{Crossing behind table to stairs) 

Alaric. {Following Peg) You're not really 
goin' to leave us, Cousin? 

Peg. I am, Cousin. And ye can forget the 
relationship the minit the cab drives away from yer 
door, Cousin. (Goes to stairs, stops on third step) 

Alaric. (Runs upstairs above her) Wait a 
minute. There's something I want to tell you. Do 
you know, I've grown really — (He swallows) 
awfully fond of you. 

Peg. It nearly choked ye, didn't it? 

Alaric. Awfully fond of you. Sit down. (Peg 
goes to sit on stairs) Not there. Over there. 
Someone may hear us. 

Peg. (Sitting on chair bclozv stairs, looking at 
him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes) When 
did ye find out ye were fond of me, Alaric ? 

Alaric. Just now. Over there. No, over there. 
When the thought flashed through me that perhaps 
you really meant to leave us. The idea bruises me — 

Peg. Does it? 

Alaric. — positively bruises ! 

Peg. You'll get over that. 

Alaric. I don't think I will. (With a supreme 
effort) You know, meeting a girl like you day after 



PEG O' MY HEART 113 

day for a month has an awful effect on a fellow. 

Peg. Awful effect? 

Alaric. Awful ! Not to see you running up and 
downstairs, lying about the place, studying all those 
jolly maps and things, it hurts, really hurts. {Comes 
dozen to her) Do you know, I'm goin' to do some- 
thing I've never done before in all my life. 

Peg. Somethin' useful? 

Alaric. No, no. I'm goin' to ask a very charm- 
ing young lady to marry me, eh? 

Peg. What do ou think of that, now? 

Alaric. And — who — do — you — think — it — is ? 

Peg. I don't know. 

Alaric. Guess. 

Pea. I couldn't guess who'd marry you, Alaric. 

Alaric. Who would it be ? 

Peg. That's the question, who would it be? 

Alaric. Who is it? 

Peg. Who is it? 

Alaric. Who is it? 

Peg. Who is it? 

Alaric. Who is it? 

Peg. I'm asking you. You're not asking me. 
Who is it? 

Alaric. (With all the fervor he can miister) 
You. 

Peg. Me? {She falls back against the balustrade, 
then laughs long and unrestrainedly) 

Alaric. {Cheerfully) Aha! Laughing! That's 
a splendid sign. Splendid ! I always heard that 
girls cry when they're proposed to. 

Peg. I'm half laughin' and half cry in'. 

Alaric. 'course ye know I've nothin' to offer 
you 

Peg. I know that. 

Alaric. — except a life-long devotion, a decent 
old name, and mv career 

Peg. What? ' 



ii 4 PEG O' MY HEART 

Alaric. — my career, when once I 
I only need a little incentive to make no end of a 
splash in the world. And you'd be my little in- 
centive. 

Peg. That's fine. 

Alaric. (Runs upstairs again a few steps and 
then back) Then it's all right? 

Peg. That's the most wonderful thing I've ever 
heard in my life. 

Alaric. (Runs upstairs again) Good! Fine! 
Splendid ! 

Peg. Can't you make up your mind whether you 
want to be upstairs or downstairs. 

Alaric. Of course there are one or two little 
things to be settled first. (Sits, top of stairs, facing 
front) 

Peg. Only one or two? 

Alaric. Just little things. (Emboldened by her 
manner) A little obedience. 

Peg. You must obey me? 

Alaric No, no. You must obey me. 

Peg. That's funnier. 

Alaric. That's most essential. A little care 
about ordinary things, such as dress, speech, hair, 
etc., and — no Michael. 

Peg Oh! Couldn't I have Michael? 

Alaric. (firmly) In that I'm absolutely de- 
termined. (Rises) No Michael. 

Peg. You're very firm about it. 

Alaric. Very firm. 

Peg. It wouldn't be, love me love my dog? 

Alaric. (Prepared to compromise) No. It 
would not. I've never seen a dog I loved less than 
Michael. 

Peg. (Pause. Rises and goes up level with him) 
What could you offer me in place of Michael? 

Alaric. What could I offer you in place of — ? 
Oh! There we have it, dear Cousin, Myself. 



PEG O' MY HEART 115 

Peg. I'll keep my dog. 

Alaric. Oh, come, I say! You don't mean that? 

Peg. I get more affection out of his bark of 
greetin' than I've ever got from any human bein' 
in this house. If it makes no difference to you I'd 
rather have Michael. 

Alaric. You don't mean to say you refuse me? 

Peg. I refuse you. 

Alaril. You actually decline my hand and 
heart ? 

Peg. I decline your hand, and I wouldn't deprive 
j'ou of what you've got left of a heart. 

Alari\ {Unable to believe his cars) Really? 

Peg. (On the brink of laughing) Really! 

Alaric. Positively ? 

Peg. Positively ! 

Alaric. (Overjoyed. All the tension relieved) 
I say ! You're a brick ! (Shakes her hand violently!) 

Peg. Am I ? 

Alaric It's really awfully good of you. Some 
girls in your position would have jumped at me. 
(Comes down and back c.) But you're a genuine, 
hall-marked, A-number-one little brick. I'm ex- 
tremely obliged to you. (Shakes her warmly by the 
hand over balustrade) You're a plucky little girl, 
that's what you are. A plucky little girl. (Goes 
towards alcove r.) 

Peg. Am I ? 

Alaric. (Comes back to her. She hands him 
book) I'll never forget it. Never. If there's any- 
thing I can do — at any time — call on me. I'll be 
there — on the spot. (Puts- down book on newel 
post, crosses r. behind table) Bless you, Cousin! 
You've taken an awful load off my mind. I was 
really worried. Had to ask you — promised to. 

Peg. Well, I said, " No." I refused to have you. 

Alaric. Yes. I know. I know. Ta, ta ! 'See 
you before you go. Whew! What an escape! 



n6 PEG O' MY HEART 

(Hurries out through alcove r., into garden. Peg 
watches him go through window, and laughs) 

Peg. But I said I wouldn't have you. (Door 
l. opens and Hawkes and Mrs. Chichester enter. 
Hawkes, l., looks around for Peg. Peg shakes 
hands with Hawkes) Hello, Mr. Hawkes ! How 
do ye do? 

Hawkes. Well, and how is our little protegee? 
I declare you're quite a young lady. 

Peg. (Corning dozvn-stage) Am I? Ask my 
aunt. 

(Hawkes crosses over to c.) 

Mrs. Chichester. Air. Hawkes wishes to talk 
to 3'ou, dear. 

Peg. And I'd like to talk to him. 

Mrs. Chichester. Margaret! Why do you al- 
ways have your hair over your eyes? Excuse me, 
Mr. Hawkes. (To door l.) Oh, it's hopeless. 
(Exit l.) 

Peg. (Comes and sits on bench) I tell you, if 
I ever cut my hair off her occupation will be gone. 
I have to pin it up, and band it up. My father used 
to cut it every six months, and that's all the trouble 
we had with it. 

Hawkes. What's all this nonsense about your 
going away? 

Peg. I'm going back to my father. 

Hawkes. Why are you going back to him? 

Peg. I'm going back. 

Hawkes. Aren't you happy here? 

Peg. Devil a bit. 

Hawkes. What's the trouble ? 

Peg. All the men have gone crazy in this house. 

Hawkes. Has anyone been making iove to you? 

Peg. Yes. Two of them. 

Hawkes. W Tiat ? 



PEG O' MY HEART 117 

Peg. One man tried to kiss me and I slapped 
his face 

Hawkes. Good. 

Peg. The other man asked me to marry him and 
I sassed him. 

Hawkes. Who was it? 

Peg. Alaric. 

Hawkes. What did you say to him? 

Peg. I told him I'd rather have Michael. 

Hawkes. Michael? 

Peg. Yes. My dog. 

Hawkes. (Laughing) Oh, the dog. So you 
refused him? 

Peg. Of course. What would I be doing marry- 
ing Alaric? 

Hawkes. Oh, I don't know. Is he too young? 

Peg. Too young, too silly, and too selfish. And 
everything I don't like in a man Alaric is. 

Hawkes. And what do you like in a man? 

Peg. Precious little. 

Hawkes. Listen, my dear Miss O'Connell. I'm 
speaking now as your late uncle's friend, and your 
well-wisher. You've a wonderful chance here. 
Remain with Mrs. Chichester. Continue your course 
of training. Then marry. Marry in England. And 
uphold the dignity and traditions of the Kingsnorths. 

Peg. There's not a man in the world I'd marry 
now. 

Hawkes. Really, Miss O'Connell, your future 
would then be absolutely assured. (Taking her 
hand) Come, now. Marry here. 

Peg. Are you proposing to me? 

Hawkes. (Laughingly) Well, I didn't mean to, 
but now you suggest it 

Peg. I suggest it? 

Hawkes. You're alone in the world. I'm alone 
in the world. 

Peg. (Rises and goes to staircase) And as far 



n8 PEG O' MY HEART 

as I'm concerned you'll stay alone in the world. I'm 
going to get out of this crazy house. You're all mad. 

Hawkes. You're determined to go back to 
America ? 

Peg. Yes, I am. And I was going to ask you to 
buy me a passage on the steamer. 

Hawkes. (Comes to foot of stairs) I'll see that 
a passage is reserved for you, and will escort you 
down to the steamer myself. 

Peg. Thank you very much, Mr. Hawkes. 

(Mrs. Chichester enters with Jerry.) 

Mrs. Chichester. Margaret. 

Jerry. (Going to foot of stairs) Peg. 

Peg. (Looking at Jerry) I'm going back to 
my father in half-an-hour. 

Jerry. In half-an-hour? 

Peg. Yes. In thirty minutes. (Exit l.) 

Jerry. (Turning to Hawkes) What does she 
mean, Hawkes, by going in thirty minutes? 

Hawkes. She's returning to America. She ap- 
pears absolutely discontented here. I've reasoned 
with her, but she seems determined to go. (Goes 
a little r.) 

(Enter Alaric.) 

Alaric. Hello, Jerry! (Alaric shakes hands 
zvith Hawkes. They talk) 

Jerry. Hello, Al ! (Turns to Mrs. Chichester) 
I was entirely to blame for last night's unfortunate 
business. It was my fault. 

Mrs. Chichester. I've tried to tell her I'd over- 
look it, but she insists on returning to America at 
once. (Enter Jarvis, coming downstairs zvith dog 
and bundle. Mrs. Chichester turns to Jarvis) 
Where are you going with these? 



PEG O' MY HEART 119 

Jarvis. To put them in a cab, ma'am. Miss 
O'Connell 's orders. 

Mrs. Chichester. Put those articles in a bag. 
Use one of my daughter's. 

Jarvis. Miss O'Connell objects, ma'am. Says 
she'll take nothing away she didn't bring with her. 

Mrs. Chichester. (Crosses to armchair) That 
will do. 

(Alaric drops down r. to armchair. Jarvis exit l. 
Alaric and Jerry look at each other.) 

Alaric. Never mind, Mater. It can't be helped. 
We've done our best. I know I have— even offered 
to marry her if she'd stay. 

Hawkes. So I believe. 

Jerry. You offered to marry her? 

Alaric. Yes. 

Jerry. What did she say? 

Hawkes. (Comes down r. c.) Yes, what did 
she say? 

Alaric. (Confusedly) Oh! Er— er — what did 
she say? Oh, yes. The little beggar laughed in my 
face. Said she'd rather have Michael. 

(All laugh except Mrs. Chichester.) 

Hawkes. Now, Sir Gerald. My duties in regard 
to Miss O'Connell end to-day. Good-bye. (Start- 
ing to door l.) 

Jerry. I think not, Hawkes. 

Hawkes. (Turning to Jerry) I beg your 
pardon. 

Jerry. I must be satisfied that the conditions of 
the late Mr. Kingsnorth's will are complied with, 
in the spirit as well as to the letter. Remember, I 
am the chief executor. 

Alaric. (By high chair) What! An executor! 
Oh. fancy that, Mater. Executor ! 



120 PEG O' MY HEART 
Hawkes. Exactly, and 



Jerry. He expressly stipulated that a year was 
to elapse before any definite conclusion was arrived 
at. So far only a month has gone by. 

Hawkes. But she seems determined to return to 
her father. 

Alaric. I never saw anyone so determined. 

Jerry. Have you told her the conditions of the 
will? 

Hawkes. Why, no. Mr. Kingsnorth distinctly 
stated that she was not to know them. 

Jerry. (Behind chair l. of table) Except under 
exceptional circumstances. Well, I consider the 
circumstances most exceptional, and I intend to make 
known the conditions to Miss O'Connell and then let 
her decide as to whether she wishes to abide by them 
or not. 

Hawkes. (c.) As a lawyer I must strongly 
object to such a course. 

Alaric. I should say so, indeed. What on earth 
do you want to do a silly thing like that for, Jerry? 

Mrs. Chichester. Absolutely unnecessary! 

Hawkes. Entirely uncalled for ! 

Alaric. Stupid. Deuced stupid ! 

Jerry. I don't think so, Alaric. In my opinion 
Margaret ought to be told. 

Alaric. Ought to be told ! Tush and nonsense ! 

Jerry. (Coming to c.) I intend telling her why 
she was brought here, and what Mr. Kingsnorth 
wished should be done for her. 

Alaric. I never heard of such a thing. 

Mrs. Chichester. It's absurd. 

Jerry. Is it ? Do you think you have treated her 
quite fairly? 

Mrs. Chichester. Fairly? 

Jerry. Yes. Fairly. Pardon me speaking in this 
way, but I am responsible to a certain extent for 
her being here. It was at my suggestion that your 



PEG O' MY HEART 121 

late brother decided to give you the first opportunity 
of taking care of her. You have benefited by the 
arrangement, haven't you ? Come ! Think ! What 
have you done for her in return ? 

Mrs. Chichester. What more could I have 
done ? 

Alaric. Or I? 

Jerry. Well, for one thing, you might at least 
have tried to make this a home for her. If you 
had, she would not be going away now. 

Mrs. Chichester. How could I make it a home 
for such a girl as she is? 

Alaric. I should think not. Home, indeed ! 

Jerry. I suppose it was out of the question. 

Mrs. Chichester. Absolutely. 

Alaric. I should say so. 

Jerry. Very well. {To Hawkes) Then it is 
our duty to find some other lady who will carry out 
Mr. Kingsnorth's wishes. Under those circum- 
stances she may be persuaded to remain in England. 

Mrs. Chichester. What? 

Alaric. There goes our thousand-a-year, Mater. 

{Enter Peg and Ethel coming downstairs.) 

Ethel. Peg, don't go. 

Peg. The cab's at the door. There's nothing to 
keep me here now. {Crossing to Mrs. Chichester) 
Good-bye, Mrs. Chichester. I'm sorry I've been so 
much trouble. 

Mrs. Chichester. Good-bye, Margaret. {Point- 
ing to her dress) But why this dress? Why not 
one of the dresses I gave you? 

Peg. This is the way I left my father — this is 
the way I'm going back to him. Good-bye, Alaric. 

Alaric. Good-bye, you little devil. 

{They shake hands.) 



122 PEG O' MY HEART 

Peg. Good-bye, sir. 

Jerry, (c.) One moment, please. Have yon 
ever wondered at the real reason why you were 
brought to this house, and the extraordinary in- 
terest taken in you by relatives who, until a month 
ago had never bothered about even your existence ? 

Peg. Yes. I have wondered. 

Jerry. (Impatiently) First of all I must in- 
troduce myself to you in a new capacity — as the 
executor of your late uncle's will. One of his 
keenest wishes was to atone in some way for his 
unkindness to your mother. 

Peg. Nothing could do that. " Ye've made yer 
bed, lie in it," was what he wrote to my mother 
when she was starvin', and why ? Because she loved 
my father. Well, I love my father, and if he 
thought his money could separate us he's very much 
mistaken. No man can separate us — no dead man. 

Jerry. In justice to yourself you must know 
that he set aside the sum of one thousand pounds a 
year to be paid to the lady who would undertake 
your training. 

(PTawkes sits by desk.) 

Peg. A thousand pounds a year? (To Mrs. 
Chichester) You got paid for abusing me? 

Jerry. (By table) No. For taking care of you. 
I tell you this because I don't want you to feel that 
you have been living on charity. You haven't. 

Peg. (c.) Pve been made to feel it. (To Mrs. 
Chichester) Who are ye, I'd like to know, to 
bring me up any better than my father ? I want you 
to know that my father is just as much a gentleman 
as you are. He never hurt a girl's feelings just be- 
cause she didn't have any money. I'd like to know 
if it's a crime not to have any money. (Crosses 
over to Ethel) 



PEG O 'MY HEART 123 

Ethel, (l. c.) Don't cry, dear. You have 
literally fed and housed us for the last month. The 
day you came here we were beggars. 

Peg. (Looks up at her in astonishment) Ye 
were beggars? 

Ethel. Yes. We have nothing but the provision 
made for your training. 

Peg. And will ye have nothing if I go away? 

Ethel. Nothing. 

Peg. Is that what ye meant last night by the 
roof over ye? (Ethel checks her) And I was 
drivin' ye to it. (Ethel drops her eyes) Well, I 
wouldn't see ye a beggar for the world. Ethel. I've 
been raised one, and I know what it's like. Bring in 
my bundles and my dog. I've changed my mind. 
I'm going to stay here. (Peg sits by table. Ethel 
crosses behind table to r. c.) 

Jerry. (Coming down) That is just what I 
would have expected you to do, but there's no need 
for such a sacrifice. 1 came here this morning with 
some very good news for you, Mrs. Chichester. I 
happen to hold some shares in Gilford's Bank, and 
I am happy to say it will shortly reopen its doors. 

Alaric. (Down to r. of Mrs. Chichester) 
Reopen its doors ! So it jolly-well ought to. What 
right had it to close 'em? That's what I want to 
know. 

Mrs. Chichester. Oh, Ethel— Alaric. 

Alaric. (r.) Now, Mater, listen to me. Every 
ha'penny goes out of Gifford's Bank and into some- 
thing that's got a bottom to it. In future I'll manage 
the business of this family. 

Peg. (Rises) That settles that. You don't need 
me any more. Good-day to yez. (Starts to go. 
Hawkes rises to open door for her) 
p Jerry. (Stopping her) Just a moment. There 
is just one more condition of Mr. Kingsnorth's will, 
that you must know. Should you go through your 



I2 4 PEG °' MY HEART 

course of training satisfactorily to the age of twenty- 
one you will inherit the sum of five thousand a year. 

Peg. I get live thousand pounds a year when 
I'm twenty-one ? No wonder all the men were mad 
to marry me this morning. (Looking at Alaric) 
I might forgive you, Alaric. (Looking at Hawkes) 
But I'd like" to know what you meant, Mr. Hawkes. 

Hawkes. (By door, turning) Oh, nonsense! 
Come, now, Miss O'Connell 

Jerry. Did you propose to Miss O'Connell, too? 
(fuming to Hawkes) 

Hawkes. (Hesitatingly) Weil — er — in a 
measure. 

Peg. Yes. It was very measured. 

Hawkes. It seemed to be an admirable solution 
of the difficulty. 

Peg. He's a solution, he is. 

Hawkes. Well, there's no harm done. 

Peg. No. It didn't go through, did it? 

Hawkes. No. Always your friend and well- 
wisher. 

Pre. But never my husband. 

Hawkes. Unfortunately, no. Good-day, every- 
body. I will wait to escort you to the boat, Miss 
O'Connell. (Exit l.) 

Jerry. Now, may I have a few minutes alone 
with my ward ? 

Mrs. Chichester. Certainly. 

Peg. Your what? 

Jerry. Ward. 

Peg. Who's that? Me? 

Jerry. I am your legal guardian — appointed by 
Mr. Kingsnorth. 

Peg. Shareholder in a bank, executor of an 
estate, and now you're my guardian. What do you 
do with your spare time? 

Jerry. (To the others) Just a second, please. 



PEG O' MY HEART 125 

(Mrs. Chichester crosses to go upstairs. Peg 
stops her.) 

Peg. Aunt Monica, would you mind very much 
saying " Good-bye " to me ? 

Mrs. Chichester. Certainly not. Good-bye, 
Margaret. It is unlikely we'll meet again. I hope 
you have a safe journey. {Exit upstairs. Alaric 
crosses l. c.) 

{Lights [ slozvly down.) 

Alaric. {Lounging over to Peg) Jolly decent 
of ye to offer to stay here — awfully decent. You 
are certainly a wonder. Miss you terribly. 

Peg. Did you know about that five thousand, 
Alaric? 

Alaric. 'course I did. That was why I proposed. 
To save the roof. 

Peg. Ye'd have sacrificed yerself by marryin' 
me? 

Alaric. Like a shot. 

Peg. There's a great hero lost in you, Alaric. 

Alaric. (Crosses to door l.) Oh, I mustn't 
boast. It's all in the family. 

Peg. Well I'm glad you didn't have to do it. 

Alaric. So am I. 

Peg. Don't get sassy. (Exit Alaric. Peg looks 
at Ethel. To Jerry) Look out of the window a 
minute, please. (Pointing to zvindows c.) I want 
to speak to Ethel. (Jerry goes to zvindows c. 
Peg crosses to Ethel) Is that all over? 

Ethel. Yes. 

Peg. You're never going to see him again? 

Ethel. Never. I'll write him that. What must 
you think of me ? 

Peg. I thought of ye all last night. Ye seem like 
someone lookin' for happiness in the dark with yer 



126 PEG O' MY HEART 

eyes shut. Open them wide, dear. Look at the sun- 
light and ye'll know happiness. 

Ethel/ I feel to-day that I'll never know happi- 
ness. 

Peg. I've felt like that ever since I've been in 
this house. I tell you, three meals a day, a soft 
bed to slape in, and everythin' ye want, makes ye 
mighty discontented, so it does. 

Ethel. Last night you saved me from myself, 
and then you shielded me from my family. 

Peg. I'd do that for any poor girl — much less my 
own cousin. 

Ethel. (Crosses to door. Tunis to Peg) Don't 
think too hardly of me. 

Peg. I don't dear. Sure, it wasn't your fault. It 
was your mother's. 

Ethel. My mother's? 

Peg. Yes. She doesn't understand children. 
You can't raise them in a hothouse. You've got to 
thrust them out into the cold wind and let them get 
used to it while they're young. I had the advantage 
of you all the time. It isn't every girl has the 
bringing up I had from my father. Good-bye, Ethel. 

Ethel. Good-bye, dear. (Cries) 

Peg. Don't do that, dear. Don't cry. (Sud- 
denly takes Ethel in her arms and kisses her) 

Ethel. (Goes to door, turns) Good-bye, Peg. 

Peg. Good-bye, Ethel. God bless you! (Ethel 
exit l.) All right. The door is shut. 

Jerry. (Coming down and round table R. to c.) 
Are you still determined to go. 

Peg. I am. 

Jerry. And you'll leave here without a regret? 

Peg. (Looks down) I didn't say that, did I? 

Jerry. We've been good friends, haven't we? 

Peg. I thought we were, but friendship must be 
honest. Why didn't ye tell me ye had a title ? How 



PEG O' MY HEART 127 

could I know you were a gentleman? Sure, Jerry 
might mean anybody. 

Terry. Are we never to play like children again? 

Peg. No. We're not equals. 

Jerry. Would nothing make you stay? 

Peg. Nothing. I'm aching for my home. 

Jerry. Peg! (Comes forward to her) 

Peg. Sir Gerald ! 

Jerry. (Tenderly) Peg, my dear 

Peg. Are you goin' to propose, too? (Jerry 
straightens up, hurt, and crosses to r. c.) What the 
devil made me say that? (Pause) 

(Enter Jarvis l.) 

Jarvis. Mr. Hawkes says if you're goin' to catch 
the train, Miss 

Peg. All right. I'll catch the train. (Jarvis 
exit) It's my Irish tongue, I suppose. (Creeps 
quietly to door l., rattles knob to attract Jerry's 
attention, then goes out of door) 

(Lightning and thunder. Jerry stands still, passes 
the back of his hand across his eyes. Goes to 
window r., and looks towards the lane. It is 
now very much darker. Suddenly the pent-up 
storm breaks with redoubled fury. The rain 
comes in torrents. Lightning and thunder fol- 
lozv in quick succession. Door l. opens and Peg 
staggers in half -fainting, shuts the door quickly, 
and leans against the door, deathly -white, and 
trembling with fear. Jerry turns, gives a cry, 
and hurries to her.) 

Jerry. Peg ! 

Peg. Shut it out ! Shut the storm out ! (Jerry 
draws the blinds. Faintly) I'm sorry for what I 



128 PEG O' MY HEART 

said just now. You're not going to be cross with 
me about that, are you? 

Jerry, (l.) I couldn't be cross with you, Peg. 
I Jove you. Be my wife. 

Peg. Don't be mad if I ask ye, but have ye 
proposed to me now ? 

Jerry. I have. Be my wife. 

Peg. Ye have a title, Jerry. 

Jerry. Share it with me. 

Peg. Ye'll be ashamed of me. 

Jerry. I love you. 

Peg. Do ye love me? 

Jerry. I do. 

Peg. I love you, too, I do. 

Jerry. (Starting tozvard her) Peg, my dear — 
(Stops and Jiesitates) 

Peg. Go on. Go on. What's the matter? 

(Lightning.) 

Jerry. Why, Peg, what will your father say? 

Peg. My father always said : " Sure, there's 
nothing half so sweet in life as love's young dream." 
(Loud crash of thunder. She hides her head on 
Jerry's shoulder. Thunder and lightning till final 
curtain ) 

The curtain falls 

THE END OF THE COMEDY 



PEG O' MY HEART 



.129 



o 




) 
1 3 o PEG O' MY HEART 

PEG O' MY HEART 

ACT I 

FURNITURE AND PROPERTY PLOT 

Large blue velvet pile carpet to cover stage. 
Landing and stair carpet of the same material. 
Small oblong oak table. On this 

Bronzed brass jardiniere containing 4 ft. real 

palm. 

Various pieces of music. 
Large oak tapestry-seated high arm-chair. 
Oak-stained Baby Grand Piano. On this 

Tapestry piano cover, 

Various sheets of music, 

One red book, 

Bronze figure of Cupid, 

Brass basket containing flowers, 

Bronze photo frame with photo, 

China bowl containing artificial fern, 

Gilt wooden standard lamp, with 

Cream flowered silk shade. 
Three bound books, " Reader ", " History ", and 

" Geography ". 
Oak cane-seated duet piano stool. 
Brown-plush-seated oak arm-chair. 
Circular oak cane-topped table. On this 

Bronzed brass jardiniere containing 4 ft. real 
palm. 
Circular oak pedestal. On this 

Bronzed brass jardiniere containing two- 
handled bronze vase. 
Long tapestry squab seat to window. 
Tapestry valance and drapery. On this 

Two tapestry cushions, 

Two blue plush cushions. 



PEG O' MY HEART 131 

Small circular oak pedestal. On this 

4 ft. real palm. 
Piece of blue drapery. 
Small circular oak pedestal. On this 

Small brass jardiniere containing 4 ft. real palm. 
Oblong oak-and-cane writing-table. On this 

Leather-and-brass blotting-pad, 

Brass blotter, 

Brass almanac, 

Brass two- well inkstand, 

Pens and pencil, 

Wooden photo-frame and photo, 

Japanese cigarette-box and cigarettes, 

Brass ash-tray, 

Brass match-stand and matches, 

Notepaper and envelopes, 

Small bronze vase, 

Small standard lamp with green silk-and-beads 
shade, 

Small calatogue of ladies' dresses. 
Small oak tapestry-seated square stool. 
Blue wicker waste-paper basket. 
Oblong oak bench with cane top. On this 

Tapestry squab seat for same. 
Large oblong oak table. On this 

Four monthly magazines, 

One "Ladies' Field" (Periodical), 

Brass book-holder, containing twelve bound 
books, 

Large atlas, 

Brass ash-tray, 

Brass match-stand and matches, 

Japanese cigarette-box and cigarettes, 

Wicker work-basket and utensils. 
Large oak cane-seated arm-chair. 
Oak cane-seated tall chair. On this 

Tapestry squab seat. 
Oak cane-seated tall chair. On this 



i?2 PEG O' MY HEART 

Tapestry squab seat. 
Small oak cane-seated arm-chair. On this 

Tapestry cushion seat. 
French- windows, shut. 
Creeper on balustrade-piece. 
On staircase 

Large brass jardiniere, 

Tall standard lamp with 

Large pink silk shade, 

Large tapestry arm-chair. 
On walls 

Five pairs of blue plush curtains, 

Five oak box-headings for the same, 

Poles, rings, etc., for the same, 

Three gilt-framed large oil-paintings, 

Two two-light brass brackets, 

Four blue silk-and-bead shades for the same, 

Old English hall-lamp, 

Brass switch for same, 

Wooden electric-bell push, 

Brass-and-ebony switch for lights, 

Pair of cream casement-cloth curtains (Half- 
drawn), 

Cords, pole, rings, etc., for the same, 

Twelve red-geranium plants outside window. 

HAND PROPERTIES 

Small silver salver for Jarvis. 

Bank letter for Jarvis. 

" Morning Post'" for Ethel. 

Gent's visiting card for Jarvis. 

Small canvas bag for Peg. 

Small common purse for Peg, containing 

Gent's visiting card. 
Small brown-paper parcel for Peg, containing 

Small hair-brush, 

Small comb, 



PEG O' MY HEART 133 

Small Catholic Prayer-book, 

Small dog's collar, 

Small rosary, 

Small old-fashioned photo in case. 
The dog, Michael. 
Small bundle legal documents for Mr. Hawkes, 
containing 

Will, and blue foolscap, written. 
Leather card-case and cards for Mr. Plawkes. 
Cigarette-case and cigarettes for Abric. 
Ivory cigarette-holder for Alaric. 
The dog, Fluffy, for Ethel. 

Large bunch of red and white roses for Jarvis. 
Door-slam effect off l. 
Lunch-gong ekect off l. 
Thunder sheet. 

Drum and beater for thunder-roll. 
Rain barrel. 

ELECTRIC LIGHT PLOT 

No ceiling batten. 

Large circular amber in footlights full up. 
Reflector amber in foolights full up. 
Large amber in back batten y 2 up. 
Four large amber lengths on back cloth. 
One small amber length to staircase. 
One small amber length to window r. 
At cue, Peg's exit, 

Reflector circuit in footlights down to % up. 

Large circuit in back batten down to V\ up, 

All lengths slowly out. 
At cue, "My aunt is Mrs. Chichester", 

Reflector circuit in footlights slowly up to full, 

All lengths slowly up to full, 

Large circuit in back batten slowly up to full, 

Small circuit in back batten slowly up to full. 
At cue, ivhen Jerry pulls open curtains, 



134 PEG O' MY HEART 

2nd large circuit amber in footlights full-up 

suddenly, 
Lightning effect for storm as per cues in script. 



LIME PLOT 

One arc on back-cloth P. S. No. 17, flood, frosted 

glass. 
One arc on back-cloth O. P. No. 17, flood, frosted 

glass. 
One arc on alcove-landing O. P. flies No. 17, focus, 

frosted glass. 
One arc through window r. on staircase No. 19, 

thin frost, focus. 
One arc through window r. on to door l. No. 19, 

thin frost, focus. 
At cue, Peg's exit, 

All arcs slowly out. 
At cue, " My aunt is Mrs. Chichester ", 

All arcs slowly up again. 



ACT II 

SCENE I 

FURNITURE AND PROPERTY PLOT 

Same as Act I, with the following exceptions- 
All curtains drawn, 
Bowl of rosebuds on table c, 
Flowers changed in vases, 
Plush cushion on bench, 
French windows open. *' 



PEG O' MY HEART 135 

HAND PROPERTIES 

Lare bound book, " The Love Stories of the 

World ", for Peg. 

Dog-fight off l v 

Silver salver for Jarvis. 

Written note for Jarvis. 

Clock strike off L. (9). 
Band stands ready for band under stage. 

ELECTRIC LIGHT PLOT 

Three circuits amber in footlights full up. 
No. 3 batten brailed close to No. 4, and 
Both circuits green full up. 
Small amber length to staircase, 
Standard lamp on staircase alight, 

Piano lamp alight, 

Writing-desk lamp alight, 

Both brackets alight, 

Hall lamp alight. 

LIME PLOT 

One arc on back-cloth P. S. No. n, frost, flood. 
One arc on back-cloth O. P. No. 11, frost, flood. 
One arc on alcove-landing O. P., flies. 



ACT II 

SCENE II 

FURNITURE AND PROPERTY PLOT 

Same as Scene I, with the curtains all open. 
French windows shut. 



136 PEG O' MY HEART 

HAND PROPERTIES 

Small handbag for Ethel with jewel bag inside. 
Electric flash-torch for Alaric. 
Electric candle for Mrs. Chichester. 
Glass of water for Jerry. 
Smellin"'- salts bottle for AJaric. 



*ftj 



ELECTRIC LIGHT PLOT 

No lights on stage, with the exception of 

Three 50-candle-power reflector lamps in green 
in footlights r. c. alight. 
At cue, When Alaric turns switch on, 

Three amber circuits in footlights full up, 

Both brackets full up, 

Piano lamp full up, 

Desk lamp full up. 

LIME PLOT 

Same as Scene I, with the addition of, 

One arc through window r. on staircase, No. 

11, frost, focus, 
One arc through window r. on door l., No. 
11, frost, focus. 



ACT III 

FURNITURE AND PROPERTY PLOT 

Same as previous scenes, with the addition of, 
Rose petals on table c. and on floor, 
French windows open, 
Bunch of wild flowers in vase on desk. 



PEG O' MY HEART 137 

HAND PROPERTIES 



" Morning Post " for Alaric. 
Peg's bag, parcel, and dog, for Jarvis. 
Thunder sheet. 
Drum for rolls. 



ELECTRIC LIGHT PLOT 

Three circuits amber in footlights full up. 

Two circuits amber in back batten full up. 

Four large lengths amber on back-cloth full up. 

Two small lengths amber on staircase and window 
full up. 

Lightning effect as in Act I. 

At cue, Mrs. Chichester's exit, 

Reflector circuit in footlights slowly down to 

Vk up, 
Large circuit in footlights slowly out, 
Small circuit in back batten slowly out, 
Large circuit in back batten slowly down to 
J4 up. 



All lengths slowly out. 



LIME PLOT 

One arc on back-cloth P. S. No. 17, frost, flood. 
One arc on back-cloth O. P. No. 17, frost, flood. 
One arc on alcove-landing O P. flies No. 17, frost, 

focus. 
One arc through window r. on to staircase No. 19, 

frost, focus. 
One arc through window r. on to door l. No. 19, 

frost, focus. 
At cue, Mrs. Chichester's exit, 
All arcs slowly out. 



i 3 8 PEG O' MY HEART 

DRESS PLOT 

Jerry. 

Act I. Riding suit. Jacket, waistcoat, breeches, 
leggings. 

Act II. Scene I. Evening dress, *ull. 

Act II. Scene II. Overcoat, hat, muffler. 

Act III. Lounge suit. Jacket, waistcoat, trousers. 

Alaric. 

Act I. Golfing suit. Jacket, waistcoat, breeches, 
stockings, brown shoes. 

Act II. Scene I. Evening dress (Dinner jacket). 

Act II. Scene II. Dressing-gown, pyjamas, slip- 
pers. 

Act III. Tennis dress. Jacket, waistcoat, flannels, 
white shoes. 

Mr. Hawkes. 

Act I. Morning dress. Morning coat, black 
waistcoat, gray trousers. 

Act III. Morning dress. Morning coat (Act I), 
fancy waistcoat, gray trousers. 

Brent. 

Act I. Lounge suit. Dark gray jacket, waistcoat, 
trousers. 

Act II. Lounge suit. Dark gray jacket, waistcoat, 
trousers. 

Act II. Scene II. Motor overcoat, cap, gloves. 

Jar vie. 

Act I. Butler's dress, (Morning). Dress coat, 
high waistcoat, gray trousers. 

Act II. Butler's dress, (Evening). Dress coat, 
low waistcoat, black trousers. 

Act II. Scene II. Flannel dressing-gown, slip- 
pers. 

Act III. Same as Act I. 

Peg. 

Act I. Blue serge costume, hat, stockings, shoes. 

Act I. Blue silk dress, lace bottom. 



PEG O' MY HEART 139 

Act II. Full evening dress, cloak, cap, stockings, 

shoes 
Act III. Silk 1 iing dress. 
Ethel. 

Act I. Morning dress, stockings, shoes. 
Act II. Scene I. Evening dress, stockings, shoes. 
Act II. Sce^ j II. Going-away frock, tiger-skin 

cloak, velvet hat, stockings, shoes. 
Act III. Morning dress, stockings, shoes. 
Mrs. Chichester. 

Act I. Morning dress, stockings, shoes. 
Act II. Scene I. Evening dress, stockings, shoes. 
Act II. Scene II. Dressing-wrapper, lace cap, 

stockings, shoes. 
Act III. Morning dress, stockings, shoes. 
Bennett. 

Act I. Maid's black dress, cap, apron. 
Act II. Maid's black dress, cap, apron. 

DRESSES FOR LADY UNDERSTUDIES. 



i 4 o PEG O' MY HEART 



MUSIC 

" Temple of Friendship " is sung to the music of 
" The Little Red Lark ". 

" Mollie Brannigan " and the " Valse Mauve " 
used in the Second Act are published. 

All the songs mentioned above may be procured 
through any music dealer 



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A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

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